


Claiming Control

by cleighc



Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age II, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Abominations (Dragon Age), Animal Therapy, Asunder Cole, Betrayal, Chess, Circle Tower, Comic Relief, Dalish Elven Culture and Customs, Darkspawn, Demon possession, Depression, Discrimination, Dwarves, Elven Alienages, F/M, Ferelden, Fluff and Angst, Litany of Adralla, Mabari Puppies, Mage-Templar War, Magical Tattoos, Modern Character in Thedas, Modern Girl in Thedas, Mortalitasi, Nevarra, Orlesian Grand Game, Orlesians, Politics, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Puppy Love, Rebellion, Red Lyrium, Slavery, Slow Burn, Tevinter Imperium, The White Spire, Torture
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-12-08
Updated: 2018-01-14
Packaged: 2019-02-12 01:42:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 10
Words: 44,353
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12948576
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cleighc/pseuds/cleighc
Summary: As a result of demonic intervention, Sophia is now subject to the machinations of the Tevinter Magister Danarius. She is exposed to the unspeakable, and this story is about her attempts to take control of her life, and save those who have become enslaved by red lyrium. She also tries to disentangle herself from those claiming to own her fate. A Modern Girl in Thedas story with a few twists. Warning: This story will contain a lot of plot and unexplored lore. The romance may be a long time coming.





	1. A Plucked Sleeper

**Author's Note:**

> This is a new idea... Please tell me if you think it sounds worth pursuing.

“Realize that if a door closed, it’s because what was behind it wasn’t meant for you.” ― Mandy Hale

**Chapter 1: A Plucked Sleeper**

Sophia headed out to the dark parking lot, shivering slightly from the cold. Despite the fact that she had been exercising for the last two hours, the wind-chill was cold enough outside that it still felt like a shock to her system as soon as she stepped out of the door. She flexed her arms and sighed. She had been doing fencing long enough to know that she had pushed herself too hard, if she was having muscle aches after years of practice.

Perhaps she was a private masochist? Although she had a high pain tolerance so it was difficult to say.

She found her car and had to bite back another sigh. How had more frost formed on her windshield? She hadn’t been gone for more than two hours! Was it even actively snowing? Sophia peered up into a nearby street light, trying to see if she could find flurries. Maybe a few. Ugh.

She unlocked her car and turned the ignition, cranking the heat. Then she took out a windshield scrapper, and got to work. By the time she was done, her car was blissfully warm, and she sat there for a few minutes holding her red, numbed fingers up against the vent.

The ride home was blissfully uneventful. She swung her bag over her shoulder as she locked her car and entered the brick apartment complex. She trudged up three flights of stairs and down a long hallway just in time to see the door to her room open and a man come out. Nick, a neighbor that had a room on the same floor, who had become her pseudo-friend. They had reached the point of exchanging small talk and small favors, but Sophia was uncomfortable with all of the flirting, so it hadn’t really progressed much past that.

“Hey Soph. I just took Nala out on a walk for you. Just about froze my fingers off trying to hold onto the leash.”

Sophia felt a brow raise. “Where are your gloves?”

Nick grinned. “Lost to the nether that is my entry closet.”

Sophia snorted. “Well, hurry back to your room, then. Lord only know how you will entertain yourself without them.”

His brows waggled suggestively. “I can think of a few ways.”

Sophia gave him a smile that didn’t reach her eyes. “I’m sure you can. Thank you for taking Nala out. Have a good night.” She closed the door on him, only feeling slightly guilty, and called for her baby.  
“Nala! Come here, sweet girl!” Sophia’s beautiful brown pitbull bounded down the hallway towards her, and Sophia fell to her knees in order to greet her. “Who’s the best dog in the world? Hm? Is it you?” Sophia let out a shriek of laughter has Nala started licking her fingers enthusiastically.

“Alright girl! Let’s make sure you’ve been fed. Then mummy can heat something up for dinner…” Making her way into the kitchen, Sophia saw that Nick had refilled her food and water bowl. That twinge of guilt threatened to bubble up again, but she pushed it to the back of her mind as she heated some water in order to make tea.

She clicked through her emails, outlining her agenda for tomorrow. She needed to send her editor the article about the success and failures of foreign affair strategy when the nation was being run by businessmen by tomorrow, and she wanted to update her blog by the end of the week. Sophia smiled, looked around at her apartment. Books and plants everywhere, and she was able to enjoy them because she had a job that allowed her to work from home. Insert happy sigh here.

But what for dinner? Sophia opened her fridge thoughtfully. Hm. Not fish. Not pizza. Not week-old clam chowder…. Lasagna would work. Her mom had brought over the dish the day before yesterday, and Sophia was happy to dig in.

She brought her tea and the heated dish in front of the TV and considered her options. Netflix or video games? She knew she really should be working on her paper, but she had already written a lot today and thought she deserved some time to relax. Hm… Video games it is then. Now which one? Did she want to be the Dragonborn? The Inquisitor? The Vault-Dweller? Decisions, decisions…

She popped Dragon Age into her playstation. Another two hours later Sophia found herself talking to the television. Well, shouting really. “No! Solas, how could you? Don’t be afraid to love! Your plans don’t make any sense!” Nala whined from her place on a rug. “I know, girl. Why does he insist on being so fatalistic? I should have listened to Amanda and romanced Cullen.” Another whine.  
“I know. This is my punishment for being stubborn and contrary. Well, it’s probably time for bed, hm? We’ve got an early morning.”

Sophia made her way into her bedroom, forced herself to take a quick shower and brush her teeth in the connected bathroom, and climbed into bed. Her tank top and sweatpants were just light enough that she felt the need to add another blanket, and she snuggled into the fuzzy flannel. Nala jumped up on the bed, and laid down beside her. Sophia rubbed her head for a minute, making sure to scratch a spot behind the canine’s ears, before turning off the bedside light. Warm almost to the point of discomfort, sleep came quickly.

* * *

 

There was a woman who blazed blue, so bright that Sophia couldn’t see anything else. _“Ar usul’ema ash’ala to ma. Ea soun. Ma ane as’var vun. As’var dys sul revas_.” Was that… elven? The woman came forward and touched Sophia’s forehead with tender fingertips, before disappearing. The touch felt strange, warm and cool all at once, an energy that sent tingles down her spine…

But then there was a being that reminded Sophia of the phrase “fire and brimstone”. An earthly rage and terror made of flames and rock that screamed and burned, and reached for her… Sophia ran. Fear rushed through her body and made her limbs tingle from the adrenaline rush. She looked behind her as she sprinted, and cried out when she saw the demon at her heels. It let out a crackling laugh that sounded like wind howling through trees. She tripped in her surprise, and suddenly that terrifying mass of negative energy was all around her, and all Sophia could feel was pain, and all Sophia could hear were her own screams…

Sophia shot awake and looked around, panting from the earlier exertion. She froze in shock. This was not her bedroom. She was not in her bed. Was she still dreaming? She struggled to move her arms and realized she was bound in chains. Looking down she could see a complicated rune circle drawn on a stone floor, and blood…. It was everywhere. It saturated the air, until everything tasted and smelt metallic. Even her legs, covered in some kind of cotton, were soaked crimson. Sophia started hyperventilating. What was this? She had to still be dreaming, right? There was no way this could be real? Just her fault for playing video games before bed.

Her attempts at rationalizing her situation ended when a door at the far end of the chamber shot open, and an aged man wearing ostentatious crimson robes entered. His hair and beard were grey and whitening at the tips, and the skin around his wrinkled eyes was an unhealthy purple. His gaze was focused and intense, and gleamed with intelligence and malicious intent. “This is the one?” the man asked, scrutinizing her skeptically. “I can see nothing special about her.” Sophia assumed the question to be rhetoric, because she couldn’t see anyone else in the room, but suddenly the demon from her dream manifested in front of her in one of the summoning circles.

“She is the _Vun_. She is what you need.” The voice of the demon was similar to its laugh- a cackle, like burning wood popping.

The old man sneered. “We shall see. Wait until after the experiment has been conducted. Your end of the deal will not be fulfilled unless she lives.” Wait, experiment? He was going to conduct a potentially lethal experiment on her? Another wave of fear and anxiety rankled through her body. The man strode forward unaware of her internal turmoil, and backhanded Sophia across the face.

Motherfucker, that hurt… but it helped to ground her amidst the fear. Sophia turned towards the man with a defiant glare, and spat a mouthful of blood and saliva at the hem of his robe. She had never been the type to just roll over and let people take advantage of her. She was stubborn, and plucky, and stuck to her guns. Or so she told herself. It had caused problems when she was a kid- repeatedly standing up for bullied kids had gotten her in the middle of several fist fights. But she wasn’t afraid of conflict. She wasn’t afraid of pain.

To Sophia’s surprise, this demonstration seemed to assuage the man’s fears, as he nodded, his face still in a state of derision. “There is potential. We will see if this attitude lasts.”

Their exchange was interrupted by a knock on the inside of the open door. “Danarius? The shipment you ordered has been put in the chamber.” A young auburn-haired man in robes entered the doorway nervously.

“Everything is as expected?”

“Yes, sir. A few of the dwarves and blood mages have managed to distill the raw red lyrium into a processed, diluted version that we believe will work well for our purposes.”

Danarius shot the young man a look, who fidgeted uncomfortably, looking eager to anticipate any and all questions in order to fill the silence. “With minimal casualties. Only half died in the procedure, so they should be able to replicate the process should we need more.”

“And the other thing I requested?”

“Adralla’s notes have been uncovered and organized by way of relevance. They have been placed on your desk.”

“This is good news,” Danarius stated, the edges of his lips turned up in a grim smile, but his eyes remained intense and haunted. The overall effect was disturbingly creepy. As was the information Sophia was currently process. Adralla? As in the mage responsible for the Litany of Adalla? So the man was looking into demon possession? But didn’t red lyrium act as a catalyst for power that had the opposite effect?

Danarius turned back to look at her with a calculating stare. “Send a few men in and take her to the chamber. Chain her to the table.” He then turned and strode out of the room. The demon disappeared as soon as he left the room. The young man left, and Sophia was left alone.

She needed to escape. Everything about that exchange boded ill for her, and she didn’t intend to stick around. She looked down at the chains around her arms, and pulled experimentally. It chafed at her wrists, burning all of the skin the metal came in contact with. Magic? She looked around the shackles and couldn’t find a keyhole. So these really were controlled with magic. Perhaps she could will herself free? Sophia still wasn’t completely convinced she wasn't dreaming. She had never had a lucid dream before, but what better time to start?

She thought about escaping with every part in her being. She thought about the shackles opening and becoming free. She even thought about mentally drawing energy from the Fade to assist in her escape- perhaps it would help if she was making her attempts according to context? Nothing happened, however, and in the next minute three men entered the room. One of them turned to the other two. “You disengage the magic around her lock. You grab her before she can try anything. We don’t know if she has had any training.”

Alright. It seems she would have to attempt to fight her way out.

She waited until the lock disengaged and she was grabbed from behind, before taking his right wrist in both hands and twisting it as she spun away. She kept turning his arm until she heard the pop of a dislocated shoulder. Then it was an immediate jab to his eyes and a kick to the groin, before she sprinted for the door. Weekend self-defense classes for the win!

“Stop!” one of the men called. The leader threw himself in front of the door, and Sophia had no qualms about punching his nose, feeling the cartilage give way. Then it was a side kick to his chest, and she hopped over her body before he had a chance to recover. Which way? She took an instinctive right, and was unpleasantly surprised to see an ascending staircase. So, wrong direction? She kept running anyway, and eventually made her way past a woman in robes. The woman tried to grab her, but Sophia side-stepped at the last minute and continued running. Eventually she could feel her calves and thighs burning from the exertion of going up several flights of stairs. Her fear and the sound of following footsteps and voices pushed her forward. She made it to the top and pushed against the door, and had to blink at the sudden light of the outside.

Looking around she spotted a chair, and wedged it under the door. She then looked over the wall surrounding the tower’s roof to see a sprawling city. Other towers and buildings made of stone and wood stood in the distance, but most of the buildings were elegant and beautifully colored. She ran to the edge and circled the roof, looking down the side of the building, but there was no way down. Just a seventy-foot drop onto the walkway below.

There was pounding against the door, and Sophia turned just in time to see the edge of a battleaxe break through the solid wood. She scrambled onto the top of the stone wall, and backed into the edge.

More of the door was destroyed, and at least a dozen people poured onto the roof. Once they noticed where she was, they paused in wary apprehension. “Girl! This is nofin’ worth dyin’ ova. Come back fro’ the edge.” Sophia stuck out her chin and pursed her lips stubbornly as she strengthened her resolve to jump. More than likely, she would wake up in her bed and need to hug Nala for a few minutes. And even if it wasn’t a dream, better a swift death than be subject to painful medical experimentation.

The crowd suddenly parted, and Danarius and the demon joined them on the roof. “Girl! I had to sacrifice fifteen people to bring you this side of the Fade. You will come down and allow me the benefit of my investment!”

Fifteen people? Good lord. But she would ensure that they did not die in vain. Her death would prevent the unsavory, right? The aged man took another step towards her, and Sophia stepped back off the edge, her arms flung wide as she began to freefall.


	2. A Painful Aptitude

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which there is pain.

“It's so hard to forget pain, but it's even harder to remember sweetness. We have no scar to show for happiness. We learn so little from peace.” ― Chuck Palahniuk

**Chapter 2: A Painful Aptitude**

**Disclaimer: This chapter contains torture and sexual assault.**

Sophia had never been in this much pain before. It was difficult to remember the past few hours; how the demon had materialized and caught her before she could reach the ground after she had jumped. How a group of four armored men had held her down on a table as the man with a bleeding, broken nose cut and ripped her clothes off with a vindictive sneer. He had cupped her breast with his palm almost gently, before digging his fingernails into the skin and yanking as hard as he could. Sophia had bit her lip, refusing to scream.

Another soldier had thought to get grabby in the apex between her thighs, but she had buckled and shoved her knees together on his hand before it could reach. She had been hit across the face for that, and her folds grabbed almost defiantly after her limbs had been re-secured, but Sophia gritted her teeth and did her best to ignore the sensation.

She refused to make a noise. She would not. She clung to her resolve, even as she was being violated. She would not give them the satisfaction.

They stopped before actually penetrating her, which she assumed was because Danarius chose that moment to enter the room. He walked up to her and grabbed her face with forceful fingers. “Have no doubt, you will pay for that bit of theatrics.” He dug his fingers into the bruise in her cheek, and Sophia felt her eyes water. She blinked, willing herself not to cry, still grinding her teeth. The smirk he gave her after witnessing this display was cruel and self-indulgent. “No worries, my dear. This procedure is rather painful.”

Sophia had never experienced childbirth, but she had passed kidney stones, which she heard was the next best thing. She had been rushed to the hospital with a kidney infection. She had broken her radius so the bone was sticking out, and then had to undergo surgery. She had been roughed up and bruised during fencing matches and fist-fights. None of that had even come close to preparing her for what this felt like. 

The first cuts of the knife were bearable, circling up her legs and around her torso… Sharp, but Sophia managed to bite down hard enough to remain silent. And then she saw a glowing red, and all feeling turned excruciating. It was not just pain- there was this sick hunger and need she could feel within the material that seemed to grab at her very soul. It seemed to infuse with her bones, become part of her very being… She realized rather belatedly that she was screaming, and someone was holding the leather of their glove roughly against her mouth, threatening to gag her….

Time was dimensionless. Periodically a hand grabbed her chin and forced Sophia to swallow some herbal concoction that brought temporary relief, but there were eons in between. The pain became more acute, a cutting, and then again the flames… Dimly she recognized the wet feeling of blood pool underneath her body, slick against her struggle against the bindings. 

Her screams slowly turned hoarse, but even then she couldn’t stop herself from crying out. The cuts made their way up to her breasts, and cutting into the tops of the soft material felt her entire body shudder and her consciousness started to fade. Her body turned limp and she heard shouting.

“Give her more elfroot infusion! Now! No, you fucking imbecile, the green bottle!”

Liquid dripped out of her mouth, and frantic fingers rubbed her esophagus, trying to force her to swallow. She was brought back, the relief temporary, and the pain worsened by comparison, but she was more coherent than she was previously. She used these restored mental facilities to will death with every particle of her being. She prayed for it, whispering the name of every God or Goddess in every religion she could think, pleading for mercy. In the silence that followed, the absence of any divine entity abundantly clear, Sophia started swearing. In every language she could think of. Wait, wasn’t Tevene a derivative of Latin?

“Futue te ipsum et caballum tuum!”

The expressions she could see from the men surrounding her were a crapshoot between surprised and offended.

“Interfice te cochleari!” Sophia swore she heard a snort, but the faces she could see looked confused.

She looked at Danarius. Held down and strapped down, nerves thrumming in pain, Sophia buckled and barked, “Quando podeces te regi eorum fecerunt?”

He stared her down with narrowed eyes, not reacting to the slights, but Sophia could have sworn that the maniacal light shining through his iris glinted in… interest? Was he curious?

Unsettled, Sophia switched to elven, shouting _“Fenedhis lasa!”_ around a sudden mouthful of blood before one of the men muttered, “Can anyone get her to shut up?”

Sophia had snarled. _“Nuva fen’harel pala masa sule’din! Nuva uralas telsyl na i’ga syl nyel laimem!”_

She truly adored the Elvhen Project.

She looked up to see a man gaping at her, before he turned to Danarius. “Where did you get this wench? She’s not an elf. How the fuck does she know the language? Or Tevene, for that matter? Who is she?”

The aged man had sneered. “Doubtful she will remember anything by the end of this. Pay no mind to her hysterical mutterings.”

_“Nuva mar’edhis banafelas I miol’en av ra!”_

There was a snicker in the corner of the room, and the man by her head twirled. “Well, elf! What the fuck did she say!”

There were stumbling muttered apologies. 

“I asked you with it meant!” was shouted, followed by a physical blow and a cry of pain. Sobbing breaths wrapped around the Common translation, “May your d-dick rot and the ins-sects eat it.” Another blow, and then the man strode up to her.

“You think you’re so fucking funny, do you?” A blow to her face, and then once again the world began to turn dark. Thank fucking god.

Danarius strode over to the man with a knife. “And what do you think you are doing? Damaging my property? Questioning my methods?”

He sounded nervous. “You heard what she said…”

“I think we found our blood sacrifice,” the old man derided, and watched dispassionately as the man was held down and his throat cut. The blood splattered across her body, but at this point, Sophia couldn’t feel it.

The cuts reached her neck and face, and Sophia lost the wherewithal to swear. It hurt so goddamn much… She realized she was muttering, trying to rationalize with her pain as if it was some third-party entity, and bit down on her lip hard enough bleed. When the red lyrium was poured down her cheeks, the pain reached new heights, and she was pretty sure she lost consciousness. Everything was white, and then there were colors swirling, and then shadow seemed to draw energy from the light… She realized she was screaming again, a shriek that was cracked and desperate, and she struggled against the binding, writhing, a liquid mix of tears, sweat, snot, blood, and red lyrium streaming to pool around the side of cheeks and neck…

“Almost there. Igne natura renovatur integra,” an aged voice almost crooned above her, and Sophia suddenly felt violently ill. There was barely a moment’s notice before vomit projected out of body, tinged with blood and pieces of glowing red, and the fear and anxiety of her situation seemed to slam into her. Oh god, oh god, oh god… But there was no god. There was only man. Cruel, greedy, sadistic man….

And then she heard chants, registered a crowd of robbed men and women circle the table, and the room filled with light. And everything burned.

The pain felt like a molten fire that spread through veins and set all of her pain receptors off at the same time. She felt like she was freezing and burning at the same time. As if she was being smothered by intense sensations of stabbing, throbbing, pulling in places she didn’t realize could feel pain… Through it all, screams poured unbidden from her mouth as the muscles in her body contorted, as if trying to physically move away from the source of pain. But the restraints kept her in place, and her back was left arching less than an inch off the table.

Please let me die, Sophia thought desperately. Please, please, please, please-

A women’s voice broke through her thoughts, singing.

_“Tel’enara bellana bana’vhenadahl, Sethen’a ir san’shiral, mala tel’halani. Ir sa’vir te’suledin var bana’vallaslin, vora’nadas san banal’him emma abel revas. Ir tela’ena glandival, vir amin tel’hanin. Ir tela las ir Fen halam, vir am’tela’elvahen.”_

Sophia continued to sob, crying out, pleading for someone, anyone… Her body was burning, but Sophia could swear she felt the currents in her soul bend. She was so afraid. The sensation was almost to the point of numbness, but then someone would force to swallow more of that fucking potion, which she now started to vomit up for every other time they tried to make her swallow…

Another song, sung in the same melodic timbre.

_“Melava inan enansal, ir su aravel tu elvaral, u na emma abelas. In elgar sa vir mana, in tu setheneran din emma na. Lath sulevin, lath araval ena arla vent u vir mahvir, melana ‘nehn enasal ir sa lethalin.”_

Sophia could feel her body begin to shake violently, all of her muscles convulsing, the blood threatening to collect in the back of her throat as she began to choke. There were shouts, and the restraints were released as they turned her body, and the swift change in orientation caused her to vomit on the table top. Everything was made up a light now, an interplay of shadow and white, and with what little strength she had Sophia begged for death. For the oblivion of nothingness. She wasn’t strong enough, not for this. No one was strong enough for this.

_“Elgara valla, da’len, melava somniar. Mala taren aravas, Ara ma’desen melar. Iras ma ghilas, da’len, ara ma’nedan ashir. Dirthara lothlenan’as, bal emma mala dir. Tel’enfenim, da’len, irassal ma ghilas. Ma garas mir renan, ara ma’athlan vhenas. Ara ma’ahlan vhenas.”_

Vhenas. Sophia’s heart caught on that word, the tears, blood, vomit, and pieces of shiny red gleaming on the table top beneath her. Heart. Home. How she wanted that right now. Although she was rather caught on the fact that someone had been singing. Right? But who? And why hadn’t they helped her? The betrayal burned, and pain consumed Sophia for several moments before she finally blacked out.

-

When Sophia came to, she was lying on a cot covered in blankets. Where was she? She made to sit up, and saw dark red scars circling both arms, the design rather beautiful in its intricacy… Where- where had this come from? This was not home. She was in pain. A persistent achy throbbing that pulled at strained muscles and sensitive skin. What had happened? She… had been screaming. She could remember hearing the echoes off the walls. She remembered feeling the need to escape. But it was difficult to remember much beyond imprints of fear and longing.

There was a knock on the door. Startled, Sophia brought the blanket up to her chin and stared at the door apprehensively. Who could this be? 

The door pushed open, and in came an auburn haired man wearing a congenial smile, carrying a tray of food. “I see you have woken up! This is great. After your fall we were afraid something had happened-” he stopped for a second to tap his head, “-up here.”

Sophia cocked her head inquisitively. “My fall?”

The man nodded. “From the roof of the tower. Such a tragedy. It’s a miracle you survived.”

Sophia nodded, suspicious, but without knowing why. “How did I survive?”

“Well one of the mages decided to give you lyrium as a healing aid. It was a bit of an unorthodox treatment, however, and we couldn’t anticipate the… affinity… it had with your body.”

“I… see. I’m afraid I can’t remember much.” Was it just her, or did the man’s smile relax after she said that?

“Oh, how terrible. Your grandfather will be terribly displeased to hear that. He had hoped for a more comprehensive recovery.” Sophia was stuck on the word comprehensive, for some reason. It just seemed like an odd word to put there… comprehensive in what way?

“My grandfather?” she asked instead.

“The Magister. You had come to visit him over the holidays, and was exploring one of the locked old towers on the edge of his estate.” The young man’s looked turned disapproving. “You knew you weren’t supposed to go in there.”

“I am a bit.. adventurous?” her statement ended up sounding like a question as she tried to remember herself. Who was she really? Besides an odd assortment of likes. What was important to her?  
Courage. Honor. Integrity. Perseverance. Strength. They seemed ingrained, and popped into her mind as if through muscle memory. Was the brain a muscle? But she at least had morals and values. Even if she couldn’t remember from where.

The man nodded. “I’ll say. But the healer suggested bed rest for at least the next couple of days. And then you should be free to resume training.”

“Training?” she asked, because it felt like she was supposed to. But the idea of training fit comfortably in her mind. She had trained before. For the first time since the man came into the room, Sophia felt herself begin to relax.

“You don’t remember your silly dream to become a Seeker? Used to practice all the time. Of course the chances of that actually taking place were ridiculous, but now that you look the way you do… Well, it is unlikely that you will be receiving any marriage bids anytime soon.”

“Marriage,” Sophia sounded out the word like it was something both alien and profane. 

“But of course. Although the fact that you are not a mage serves you well. You might just convince your grandfather to let you apply.”

“Mage,” Sophia tried out this word, but it didn’t fit like training had. It felt… fanciful, for some reason. Unrealistic. Although surely not if this young man brought the topic up so casually?

The man lifted an eyebrow. “Surely you remember magic?”

Sophia didn’t know what to say. 

“Well, Lucy, I’m sure it will come back. Just give it some time.”

“Lucy?”

“Lucilla? Your name? You really can’t remember anything, can you?”

She shook her head. But saying the name out loud to herself, Lucy tasted… off. She didn’t feel any attachment to Lucy. Or a Lucilla. Or was this just another symptom of the memory loss? Although, thinking about it now, she didn’t think she liked the name Lucy… but then she didn’t really get to pick her name, did she?

The man smiled widely again. “Well, no worries! Here, have some soup. Try eating the bread in small pieces.” He set the tray down over her lap on the bed. “I’ll be back to get it soon.” He left.  
She looked down at the food dispassionately. She… felt rather queasy, actually, but she tried to spoon some of the soup into her mouth anyways. She needed to keep her strength up if she wanted to find out what was really going on. 

When she had managed to keep down some soup and bread, someone else came through the door to collect her dishes. This was a young woman with a bruised face and strangely pointed ears… Wait, pointed ears? So she was an elf? Why did that feel so impossible? She was clearly there.

The woman was moving covertly, eyes shifted up and down the hallway behind her before she closed the door and entered the room. _“Savh, arani. Ea son?”_

Sophia replied before she quite knew what she was doing. _“Ame te’son, i na?”_ She gestured at the dark blue and purple bruise.

To her surprise, the elf grinning. _“Te’son_. I blame you, I hope you know. Who curses like that? What kind of shem are you?”

“A forgetful one?” she broached the subject. Her inquiries felt more sincere than the one given by the man. Maybe she would be able to help. She felt strangely accepting of the fact that she had no memories, but she wanted a battle plan.

The elf’s eyes widened. “You forgot? I thought that maybe… you were much more coherent than Leto was.”

Sophia felt apprehension curl in the pit of her stomach. “What happened?”

The elf frowned unhappily, and her gaze darted towards the door and back at her before answering. “The experiment. Your markings… _Ir abelas._ If I had been able to do something I would have.”

Sophia waved her concerns away, but inside the knot had tightened and she was starting to feel nervous. Experiments? “Who am I?”

The elf bit her lip. “Well, I am not sure where you came from, but you corrected one of the men in the room who insisted on calling you wench. Sophia, is it?”

She let out a quick breath. Sophia. Yes, that felt right. Like something in her being slotted into place… _“Vin. Ma serannas. Ahn mar mellan?”_

The elf grinned. “Ashiwyn.”

Sophia smiled in return. “Pleasure to make your acquaintance, Ash. I suspect you have a lot to tell me.”

Ash nodded. “Soon. I need to return these dishes. But I will find time?”

_“Sal sura.”_

_“Sule tael tasalal.”_  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Translations from Project Elvhen:  
> Nuva fen’harel pala masa sule’din = May the dread wolf fuck your ass until you die.  
> Nuva uralas telsyl na i’ga syl nyel laimem = May nature strangle you with all the air you have wasted.  
> Futue te ipsum et caballum tuum = Fuck you and the horse you rode in on.  
> Interfice te cochleari = Kill yourself with a spoon.  
> Quando podeces te regi eorum fecerunt? = When did the assholes make you their king?  
> Igne natura renovator integra = Through fire, nature is reborn whole.  
> Savh, arani. Ea son = Hi, friend. How are you feeling?  
> Ame te’son, i na = I’m fine. And you?  
> Vin. Ma serannas. Ahn mar mellan = Yes. Thank you. What is your name?  
> Sal sura = Come visit me again  
> Sule tael tasalal = Until we meet again


	3. The Ruse

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An introduction into the Magister's household.

“Imagine smiling after a slap in the face. Then think of doing it twenty-four hours a day.”   
― Markus Zusak

**Chapter 3: The Ruse**

Until Sophia was able to get more information about her situation, she rationalized that it would be better to play along with both parties (in this case Ash and Julius, who she had learned was the name of the auburn-haired man). While she personally believed that Ash was telling the truth, it seemed unwise to throw accusations at the individuals in control of her hospitality, especially until after she had a better idea of what these people wanted from her.

Her 'grandfather' had introduced himself the day after she awoke. He was an older man with a hard face lined with wrinkles, his furrowed brow steel grey, and his gaze intense. Even considering their supposed relationship, his interest in her health was rather unnerving. He stated that he wanted to know about everything; every ache and pain, of which there was a lot. Thankfully some of the sensation had settled from yesterday, but now that she was no longer nauseous and dizzy, the prickly pain stood out.

Although it wasn't just pain. Aside from some throbbing on the surface of her skin, nothing pulsed or bit into her- it was subtler. Like she would attempt to move normally, and a twinge just painful enough to be noticeable and annoying shot through her body.

He didn't seem surprised to hear that, which was suspicious. As was his attitude. Too clinical to be doting, and too flippant about her pain to be caring. Points to Ash, then.

He had been rather eager to attend her practice several days later. She was given a variety of weapons to choose from, and had instinctively reached for a thin blade. Her movements against the training dummy were sure, her footwork solid, but the man had looked disappointed at her performance.

He had called for a spar, and although Sophia had fought with a strength, speed, and agility that seemed unnatural to her, the man was noticeably dissatisfied. She saw him give a quick nod to her opponent out of the corner of her eye, and the man in question immediately stuck out with killing intent. It turned from a friendly spar to a mad dash to avoid a shield and sword that held nothing back.  
Refusing to panic, Sophia analyzed his thrusts and the movement of his hips, and used that momentum to trip him up, crouching down so her leg could pass underneath his shield. He tumbled forward onto his hands and knees, and she then leveled her sword to his neck, both of them breathing heavily with the exertion. But looking back at her 'grandfather', she could see him frowning at her.

She addressed the strange behavior with Ash later. The young woman had taken to spending a couple fifteen to twenty minute increments to visit a day, which consisted of an unorganized mishmash of information about the Imperium and the Magister's household, observations about its members, and elvish wordplay (which was more often than not lewd and/or blasphemous).

"Oh, that. After Leto was experimented on, he developed this unnatural ability to phase _through_ things. As in, he could walk through solid objects. I guess the Magister was expecting something like that to happen for you."

Sophia was disturbed. He could phase through things? As in, dematerialize? The implications of that on a physical level sounded significant. How?

"Do you know how that worked, exactly?"

The elf snorted inelegantly. "I couldn't imagine. I heard it had something to do with the Fade? But I am no mage."

The Fade? Sophia asked Ash more questions, desperate to fill the gap that had been her knowledge about the world. It was greatly unnerving. Some things she seemed to know without prompting. She could speak in several languages, which they told her was Common, Antivan, and Orlesian, with random phrases of Tevene thrown in there (she found out that it was not a direct translation to Latin, just bits and pieces). Unfortunately, she couldn’t read a word of it, but Julius was soon given the responsibility of teaching her. Which was actually going rather well.

But other things. She could play an Antivan musical instrument that looked similar to a lute. She intrinsically knew some things about the world; planets move around the sun, plants drew water through their roots from osmosis, the rain in the capital was a result of precipitation built up from the orographic effect from nearby mountains… She knew to grab the wrist if grabbed from behind, to lay her fingers on top of her thumb when she punched, to not lock her knees in order to maintain a level of control and agility… But the details? The intricacies? Her ignorance ate at her.

It took Ash another fifteen minutes to explain the nature of the Fade, what kind of creatures could be found there, and the relationship between the Fade and the source of magic for many mages in the Imperium. Sophia could tell that Ash was a little exasperated from the amount of questions, and tried to hold off from asking any more than necessary.

Well, she was learning how to read. No reason not to take advantage of that. She asked Julius the next time she saw him if she could have access to the library. He appeared to be taken aback from the inquiry and resolved to get back to her after breaching the topic with her 'grandfather'.

The man himself found her the next day and led her to a room easily two stories tall, and lined with towering bookshelves. She noticed that there were rolling metal stairs lined with gold positioned at the wall of each staircase, which allowed access to the higher level. It was beautiful and wondrous, and Sophia tried to ignore her 'grandfather's' calculated gleam as she started to devour information (albeit, at a very slow pace).

He requested another demonstration of her fighting skills in return for the access of the library, which she was happy to acquiesce to. She was slightly unnerved when she got to the field to see that she was facing several men in the ring, but tried to shrug off her unease. Regardless of whether or not she truly was the man's granddaughter, or simply the product of some mad medical experiment, he wouldn't want her to die? Right? _Right?_

Sophia paced with her back to the wall, not stalling long enough for any of the three men to take advantage of her blind spots. A block here, a parry here… Working together they were able to get a sword slipped behind her shield as she was unable to block the third blade, and Sophia danced backwards in response to escape from the sword’s edge. Her back hit the stone wall behind her, and Sophia bit her lip to fight the anxiety of feeling cornered.

Another block, another swing of her shield… She thought she saw an opening in the man on her left and jumped forward to attack, only to barely tap the man before she had to spin away out of the reach of a blade. This continued for several minutes, after which Sophia was breathing heavily and feeling incredibly annoyed.

Growling, she shoved into the chest of one of the men and slammed her head into his in a headbutt, and ignoring the throbbing dizziness, slammed the back of elbow into the side of his ear while he was still stunned. The man was thrown several feet, farther due to her unusual strength, and Sophia dropped to the ground to avoid a blade pivoted to where her head had been. It was at this point that Sophia started to feel apprehensive about the experience. He could have lopped her head off? What kind of training exercise was this?

Luckily for her, the feeling of apprehension and fear helped to fuel an adrenaline rush, which gave her the gumption necessary to face her other two opponents. She circled them to avoid being caught in the middle, but the warrior bashed to her left forearm with his shield before she could defend. She almost dropped her sword from the intense feeling that shot through her as a result, almost painful in its sensitivity. Aside from the actually pain caused by the bruising skin, that is.

Sophia had noticed that her attempts to dress and bathe had been more difficult, but she had been experiencing an unusual sensitization to _every_ stimuli. Her hearing and sight had improved, everything smelled and tasted more sweet, bitter, or salty… and the smallest of touches prickled shivers, tickles, and pain. Although she was always warm, which was pleasant. She had assumed that this could have been at the result of the red lyrium in her system, although it was difficult to say when she couldn’t remember what it was like before… And now that she thought about it, she couldn't remember anyone actually touching her since she woke up. How would that feel?

Wracked with more trepidation, Sophia decided that offense was the best defense in this situation, and quickly skipped in front of one of the men, who she noticed offhandedly had a copious amount of facial hair. The shield's weight was beginning to make the muscles in her left arm ache, the placement and feel unfamiliar and uncomfortable. Eyes narrowed, considering, Sophia rushed a side step, grabbing her shield with both hands, which she used to hook around the edge of the other man's shield. She used the weight and momentum to pitch him around so his back faced her front, and Sophia didn't hesitate to deliver a side kick to his back so he tumbled forward. Her shield dropped from the maneuver, and Sophia was quick to advance, using the inertia from her sword to force the last man into a bind. Then it was a matter of striking hard enough to make him drop the sword, and Sophia pounced forward, her sword against his neck. He dropped his shield and put his hands up cautiously, although he did not seem to be afraid.

Sophia stepped back, her eyes not leaving his until she was a few feet away, and she turned towards where her 'grandfather' was. There was another man beside him, also in crimson robes, although his were obviously more dowdy. After they acknowledged that she was finished with the soldiers, he stepped forward, his expression dispassionate and his hands raised. It was only a moment before a stream of fire shot towards her from his fingertips.

Sophia raised her sword uselessly and held it in front of her face, cursing herself for dropping the shield. She ground her teeth, mentally and physically bracing for the pain and heat, but it never came. She opened her eyes, realizing that she had squinted them shut in anticipation, and saw that the flames were surrounding her but she was not burning. Odd. Was that anticipated?

Looking at the growing frustration and antagonism growing on the man's face, Sophia guessed it wasn't. She also saw that her 'grandfather' was smiling grimly again. Somehow she wasn't surprised.  
The man growled, and then took a few paces to grab a staff. Getting back into position, he twirled the decorated weapon around for a minute until lightening started to gather around the crystal at the tip. Sophia's eyes widened in panic, and she threw her arms in front of her face just as he released the lightening towards her direction. She squeaked just as the heated energy reached her, and then watched in bemusement as the light brushed past her skin without actually making contact. Danarius was now chuckling dryly.

The man was snarling, and started a barrage of attacks in her direction. Nothing landed. Eventually, in fear and frustration (how could she know that this immunity was permanent?), Sophia tried to move out of the way and accidentally swung her sword. It met the lightening attack and forced the purple and all of the surrounding magic to rebound in a visible wave, rushing back to the man in a cascade of light and sound. It brushed harmlessly against his magical shield, but by then he was gazing at her in what looked like confused wonder. He turned and started a conversation with Danarius. They were far enough away that Sophia felt comfortable assuming that they thought she couldn't hear them.

"Quid est?"

"Mea creaturae. Sed tu non petendo ius quaestionem."

The man's brows furrowed, and he pondered that statement for a few moments. "Quid fiet de eius?"

Her 'grandfather's' lips spread in a smirk, his eyes glinting maliciously.

"Et erit mihi in vindictam."

Sophia felt dread shoot through her body in physical shivers. That certainly didn't bode well.

-

It was the next day that Sophia found herself wandering into the kitchen, extremely unsettled by the elven slave that had been sent in to feed her. She was as thin as a waif, her skin a sickly pale and displaying a crisscross of scars, and the misery was etched into the lines on her face. Perhaps more disturbing was her extended stomach, and based on the size Sophia guessed she was five or six months pregnant.

Sophia's horror had obviously been displayed on her face, and the elf didn’t seem to know what to do about it. Sophia started offering platitudes that she soon realized were empty because she couldn’t do anything about the situation, and then attempted to make the poor woman eat her food, but the woman refused adamantly. After that Sophia started to feel upset, tears streaming down her cheeks because she felt so emotionally unstable, having woken up the night before shaking in pain… The elven woman rushed to bite down on a piece of bread at that display, perhaps fearing recrimination for making the ‘Magisters’ granddaughter’ cry? Still, the unintended emotional manipulation polluted any triumph she would have felt making her eat.

She wanted to help. The treatment of elves was something that obviously made Ash uncomfortable, and she attempted to speak of it as little as possible, but at least Sophia could try to understand their situation? She wanted to help. She needed to.

So there she was, the elven woman (who she managed to discover was named Kathari) beside her as she bustled her way into the kitchen. All of the working elves in the room stopped and stared, and Sophia felt extremely uncomfortable. She attempted to look around discretely, and spotted an open spot at the table in front of a pile of vegetables. With no small amount of relief, Sophia plopped herself down at a chair and continued the abandoned activity of peeling vegetables with a small paring knife. She looked up at Kathari and gestured wordlessly to the seat beside her. The elf put down the tray of food on the table in front of her and sat, still holding the half-eaten piece of bread and looking completely baffled.

One of the elves felt brave enough to approach her. “Is there anything wrong with the food, miss?”

Sophia looking up, making a point to meet the young elf’s eyes. “Not at all. The food is delicious. But I do not enjoy being served. It is not something I am used to.”

She looked around, absentmindedly peeling a carrot, before she ventured, “Is this okay? Am I allowed to help?”

More baffled looks. Sophia supposed it would be odd to ask a slave if you were allowed to do something.. Which was stupid. Sophia wished one of them could get angry at her intruding, or something… The wary apprehension painted all over their faces was painful to watch.

Ignoring the silence, Sophia looked back at Kathari. “Please eat. _Ma ane i’var’linathe, i nuven’in math_. You need strength for the little one.” Kathari’s brows drew together after hearing the elven come from her mouth, and Sophia could feel another awkward silence settling. 

She didn’t want to acknowledge it. She returned her attention to the washed potatoes with gusto, occasionally reaching over to the tray to grab a chunk of bread. What could she say, she liked to nibble while she worked. She was interrupted by a hesitant voice on her left. “Was that… Elven?”

“Yes?” she answered, feeling just as hesitant in kind. Sophia was surprised, and then felt stupid for feeling surprised. Of course; with the assimilation of an oppressed culture, should she have assumed that everyone could speak elven coherently? Although this did bring into question how Ash could speak it. Suspicious. Point off Ash, then.

What followed was the obvious question, again from the young man on her left. “How do you know Elven?”

Sophia was not afraid to draw her sleeves up and gesture to the scars lining her arms, although she was sure there was some on her face. At least she assumed there were… She made a mental note to find a mirror or a reflective standing body of water at the first opportunity. “I can’t remember for the life of me.”

The man was bold enough to ask the question no one else dared, and Sophia found herself giving him a second look. Too-thin, just like the rest of them, but with a chiseled jaw, dark hair, and sharp, intelligent eyes. Wild curiosity only slightly tempered by fear. The scars visible on the exposed skin of his shoulders from beneath a loose tunic spoke of resistance. “And your relation to the Magister?”

“I wouldn’t remember. But the signs point to me being a commoner.” Sophia gestured to the finished plate of peeled vegetables, the vegetables and peelings neatly divided. “Unless nobility here has much experience peeling potatoes?” She saw a few quirked lips from her quip and smiled.

Sophia bit her lip as she considered what to say next. Does she dare… but the potential to make allies overrode her caution. “I remember… pain. And being afraid. Chained. I do not think I was here by choice.” There were several nods, and some faces seemed to ease, but the air was still rife with trepidation. 

The elven man to her left again. Curious. “And why are you here?”

“Why am I here? In Tevinter? I’m sure the Magister has some dark purpose for me to fulfill. Why am I here in your kitchen? I want to help, but I don’t know how.” Sophia looked to the tray again, and sniffed in distaste. “And I really do dislike being served. I am no one. Certainly not more than any of you.”

The man gave her arms a dark look. “Those scars would suggest otherwise. You are not the first person they… tried.”

Sophia felt ill thinking about it. And then all of those deaths leading up to her appearance… “But, as of yet, I am still ignorant of the cause, so…” Sophia trailed off and looked towards the thin, matronly standing by the stove. She gave Sophia a narrow-eyed glare and looked down at the peeled vegetables in suspicion, gripping a large, wooden stirring spoon with her right hand.

“How would you like these cut?”

The woman’s lips curled into something reminiscent of a sneer. “For the potatoes, ¾ inch cubes. For the carrots, ¼ inch. If you can manage.” Her tone managed to sound both skeptical and offended. Interesting.

Sophia took it as a challenge, and was carefully cutting into the potato when the man to her left sat down in the chair beside her and open his mouth, posed to ask another question. The boss lady by the stove interrupted, her accent thick. 

“Claus! Don’t you have things to do?”

The man snorted. “Relax, Agatha. I sincerely doubt Alec has gotten more meat for me to butcher in the last thirty minutes. Hunting usually takes longer than that.” 

The woman rolled her eyes and scoffed, before turning back to her simmering pot.

“Claus?” Sophia asked. The names of the elves she had met so far was an interesting mix between Elven and Tevene. She wondered who decided what their names should be. And why the Elven names persisted. A small act of rebellion? 

The man nodded, giving her and then Kathari an intense look.

“Sophia,” she stated, thrusting her hand towards him. He looked down at it in confusion, before slowly offering a hand up to meet hers with suspicion growing on his face. Sophia reached forward and grasped the open palm, and then shook it up and down a few times. “Pleasure to meet you.”

She let go of his hand, and he quickly brought it to his chest. “What was that?”

Sophia felt her eyebrows furrow in concertation. “A handshake?” 

“And you… just like that?” He looked almost… flabbergasted.

Sophia felt very confused. Did handshakes mean something different over here? Not that she could remember exactly what they were for, she found herself reaching for his hand instinctively, but the meaning felt… kind of superficial? Certainly not deserving of his reaction. “Yes?

Although looking around, Sophia realized this must have meant something significant. The surrounded elves had stiffened as they watched the exchange. Kathari was practically a statue, her grip on the edge of the table tight enough her knuckles popped.

Claus frowned, and then stated warily, “And you want to help?”

Sophia brightened. “Yes, absolutely. Please.”

Claus nodded, looking determining. “Alright. This is what you need to do.”

Sophia nodded confidently. This would be the moment where she began to take control of her life. Educating herself and helping these people. She would do her best.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Translations:  
> Quid est? = What is she?  
> Mea creaturae = My creation  
> Sed tu non petendo ius quaestionem = However, you are not asking the right question.  
> Quid fiet de eius = What will become of her?  
> Et erit mihi in vindictam = She becomes my deliverance (vengeance)  
> Ma ane i’var’linathe, i nuven’in math = You are pregnant and need to eat.


	4. The Library

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dorian. Enough said.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please, dear readers, let me know what you think so far. I have a tendency to be overly ambitious, but I have a plan. How does the story sound so far? Would the translations be better after the text rather than in the notes? Please let me know. Thank you.

“No thief, however skillful, can rob one of knowledge, and that is why knowledge is the best and safest treasure to acquire.”  
― L. Frank Baum

**Chapter 4: The Library**

Sophia spent as much time as she could during the next month in the library.

She had continued her training exercises, occasionally sparring both soldiers and mages, and experts were brought in to help her improve her technique and capitalize on her new powers. During the last training regiment, her 'grandfather' brought forward an armored man that he introduced as a Southern Templar, and watched their fight with obvious anticipation. Sophia knew better than to lose. Two weeks ago she had been tricked and lost to a couple of rogues. Danarius had sneered at her, and suggested, "You need to improve if you wish to become a Seeker, my dear. Perhaps you need to keep your injuries as a reminder?"

More scars. More pain. More hurt. She woke up to a pillow crusted with bloody tears for at least a week straight following the incident, the scabs on her face breaking during sleep. The despair she felt looking down at the bloody cloth, skin throbbing, was almost overwhelming.

The Templar responded differently than some of the other warrior types she had fought. His stance, the angle he tipped his shields, the strength of his attacks… And she could feel a pull. Something about the man shone blue, and she could feel the power coursing through his veins, and it made her hunger in want… The feeling was so disconcerting, it was difficult to loosen her tense muscles enough to achieve any measure of fluidity.

Sophia had been expecting the man to be a sort of mage/soldier combo, as that seemed to be the next logical step. So, she attempted to replicate the move she had performed on mages, which she had been informed by her trainers dispelled magic. Imagine her surprise when the man, noticing her action, attempted the same thing. And then imagine their growing disbelief as her attack seemed to absorb his, washing the circle of energy wider than their two individual circles, eventually creeping up to the man itself. He choked in surprise, visibly pulled forward as if by string, before she released whatever grip she had of the wash. He was breathing heavily at that point, clutching his chest, and stared at her in confused fear.

He attacked with his sword, and Sophia responded. Their swords danced, and she was able to appreciate his superior training, when she saw the opportunity to dodge and jump forward while delivering a knife-hand to his throat.

As soon as her hand touched his skin, she could feel the buzzed need intensify and pour over her, and she had to look into the man's eyes and mentally process his shock and anxiety in order to prevent herself from reaching up and wrapping both hands around her throat. She barely registered the sound of his dropped weapon, counting breaths through her nose and then her mouth. It took everything in her to pull back and take a few steps away. The man's eyes were dilated, in need or pain Sophia couldn't decipher, although she did hear the sound of lackluster applause that she knew signified Danarius's approval. Sophia continued to step back, and then mumbled something about lunch to her audience with a strained smile, as she sheathed her sword and headed to the library.

So, yes, the library. Her favorite place in this estate besides the kitchen, which was a close second because it served as an inconspicuous rendezvous place for her and Ash, and was her point of contact for the elves she was attempting to befriend. She read everything she could get her hands on, the speed at which she could read gradually increasing, and Julius seemed amused at the wide range of subjects (Sophia wondered a few times why he felt the need to keep tract, although he was a decent conversationalist when she had a question about context and proved an invaluable teacher, so… she let it slide for the moment). The most interesting for her were the detailed accounts of history, geography, and politics, and Sophia noted the role of the Imperium as an imperialist enterprise with an odd acceptance. The genocide and later enslavement and subjugation of the elven people seemed obvious somehow, which was _wrong_ but… treatment of an indigenous people for the purposes of conquest and the expansion of resources was not a novel thing. (Although… were the elvish the indigenous people? The Tevinter texts paint them as interlopers and a threat, and speaks more about divine right of expansion rather than an ancestor claim over lands… so it would make sense?). Julius thought her reasoning fascinating.

She purposely kept the censure of the system out of her voice, hesitant to voice such strong opinions in his presence until she made a decision regarding her future. Although she was ashamed to acknowledge that it would have been easy to disassociate from the truth if she had not witnessed this subjugation in person. She had seen an elven child, shackled, starving, beaten… Sophia had listened to Julius _pontificate_ about how such displays were necessary to discourage an uprising, of the necessary _sacrifices_ needed to run an empire, about how _difficult_ it was having to deal with their incompetence… Sophia had to clench her shaking fists to stem the feelings of indignation and self-righteousness. And Ash had shown up to their meeting a few days ago, arms littered in bruises… But what could she do? She still didn't really know who she was, her place in the world, how she could change it…

Her attempts to understand their situation and form relationships in the kitchen didn’t seem to be enough, although she tried her best to follow whatever small directives they felt comfortable giving her. So far that had consisted of asking Danarius for permission to learn how to hunt with some of the elven hunters (framed as an opportunity to practice archery), promising to always send back an empty plate on the occasion she dined with anyone important (Sophia assumed there was some significance to this?), and requesting Kathari be put in charge of meeting her personal needs, like bathing and dressing. Although Sophia had argued against this last one, stating firmly that she was capable of attending to her own needs, Claus had pulled her aside and addressed the real reason behind this suggestion. He stated that it would protect her from being used by other members of the household in an unsavory manner, and was in Kathari's best interest because Sophia always made sure the pregnant elf ate and was afforded plenty of rest. Put in this context, it was difficult for Sophia to refuse.

Still, she had a lot of free time, which she spent either training or reading. Learning. She read books about science and medicine, which always made her brows wrinkle and her mouth pout in disapproval simply because it was so… wrong. Although she had no idea how she knew this. Julius thought the expression hilarious, and recommended several more texts just to laugh at her face and her supposed ignorance.

Vexed, Sophia then made the mistake of trying to argue with him. She went off on a rant about why bloodletting was stupid and barbaric, and he stated with much contempt, "This practice was based off of menstruation, you know. Why else would women bleed except to purge the body of bad humors? We are not so barbaric as to think it is a sign of defilement, or a _curse_ …"

Sophia's voice was filled with just as much derision. "Menstruation is necessary for procreation. It has nothing to do with humors."

"Or perhaps it regulates the humors, and that regulation is necessary for procreation?" He stated this sarcastically, as if it were common knowledge.

"So if you perform bloodletting on a woman who is not menstruating, as an alternative means of regulating said humors, she can become pregnant?"

Julius looked taken aback, his brow scrunched in thought. "I would imagine so, although I'm not sure that has actually been tested."

Sophia rolled her eyes, and left the table to browse the section on magic.

This section, the largest in the library, was the most difficult to understand. A majority of the books she plucked from the shelf were indecipherable, complicated and relying heavily on prior knowledge of rune meaning, combinations, and esoteric terminology. She found a few beginning texts, and was learning, trying to find some indiscriminate way to investigate the markings on her arms. But she couldn't find anything that would attempt to explain her situation.

Her next go-to were books about war and war strategies. She remembered odd things about said strategies and their relationship to politics, which sparked up lively debates with several scholarly types that frequented the room. Further inquiry demonstrated that they were Danarius' contemporaries and colleagues, although they seemed outwardly less malicious. Sophia found the differences fascinating.

In any case, more than one evening was spent debating the merits of attrition warfare and the logistics of blockades, or the potential means to counterattack guerrilla attacks in enemy territory. She used diagrams to explain Fabian strategy, relating the defense against Carthage as a demonstration of anecdotal evidence about the possibility of utilizing attrition warfare and indirection, while abstaining from pitched battles or frontal assaults. They poured over maps, and helped her identify various choke points and decisive points present in Thedas' history of war. They were heavily invested in a Civil War that had just started in a southern country called Orlais, and Sophia and the others agreed that if the crown were to be determined through military means, it would belong to Grand Duke Gaspard in the near future. Celene relied heavily on her captains and chevaliers for direction, lacking the military experience to make executive decisions on their behalf, which had obvious detriments.

Another point of fascination for her were the many religions present in Thedas. There was a substantial section of the library devoted just to the Old Gods and the Imperial Chantry. There were also books about the function of the Chantry in Ferelden and Orlais, as well as several texts of the belief systems of the Avvar and the Elvhen Creators. Sophia was sure these last two subjects were present to fulfill some kind of curiosity prompted by a fascination with the exoticism of said religions and peoples. Sophia thought it fascinating because its impact on politics (as demonstrated with the presence of the Exhaulted March) and a feeling of familiarity looking over the names of the Elvhen Pantheon. Which was frustrating because the connection was not at all readily apparent. Why in the world would she be familiar with elvhen deities whose presence clung on the prolongation of a dying culture?

She huffed at the book in irritation at her ignorance, which Julius interpreted to mean she thought the belief system archaic and ridiculous. He then proceeded to try to commiserate with her on the said ridiculousness of these texts even being present in the library, and began rambling about Danarius' compulsive habits to collect everything…

Good lord, she did not need this right now. She skipped off to find Ash, and accidentally met Danarius in the hallway. "Lucilla, there you are. I would like to inform you that you will be given a special opportunity tomorrow during practice."

"A special opportunity Grandfather?" Sophia watched with calculation as the man's eyes flashed in irritation at the address, before he covered it with a sneer attempting to pass as a smile.

"You will be facing demons. Are you not excited? Finally, a chance to prove your worth if you decide to become a Seeker."

Sophia felt the blood leave her face in trepidation, but forced a smile on her lips. "I'm looking forward to it." He swept away, and Sophia nearly jogged to the kitchen. She saw several elven staff cooking and cleaning, waved and smiled at Kathari who was washing dishes in a soapy basin, and looked around carefully for her friend. Ash appeared from behind an archway, noticed her reticence, and waved off her caution. "They won't care. _Th'ea_ , Sophia? _Ma itha geal'un_."

That was not something she was worried about, actually, but the fact that Ash thought so… Interesting. "Demons, _ma falon_! He wants me to fight demons! _Ar ame nedan_ , surely?"

Sophia was gratified to see the fear and worry on her friend's face, if only as a testament to how close the two have grown over the past few weeks. Who knew curse words could prove to be such an effective method of bonding? She saw the surrounding elves in the kitchen giving her odd looks, especially as Ash came forward and offered a hug of reassurance. Sophia accepted, and had to bite her lip as she registered the sensitivity of her skin. So this is what touching people with these scars felt like? Shit. Still, she tugged the girl closer into an actual hug.

They broke apart, and Sophia could see Ash smiling bravely, her white-blonde hair braided behind her. "We'll figure out a way, Sophia."

-

Sophia awoke the next morning to a familiar pillow of tears and a sick feeling in her stomach. She had the kind of dream you get when you can only remember images and utterances, but the feelings… They crept beneath the surface of her skin and filled her body. There was this sick thrumming, a filthy want, an edge of desperation… a song, the whispers off-key, the vibrations uncomfortable to the point of nausea in her chest… She remembered grasped red fingers, and their voices screaming in self-righteous anger “You WILL release us!”

She was more than a little disturbed, and had to sit up, conscious of the way her nightgown pulled uncomfortably on the sensitive skin of her thigh. She tried to take gasping breaths. She wanted to simply shake the feeling off, but it seemed to intensify, and looking down at her arms, the scars almost seemed to glow for a minute… She was a fool. Leisurely debating points of strategy and arrogantly attempting to understand advanced magic, when she should be researching lyrium and demons. 

She still had time to visit the library one last time, though, before she headed off against the demon. Might as well make it count.

She stared uneasily into the mirror she had finally been afforded due to Julius’s influence, and sighed in exasperation at her hair. An unruly mess of black curls, which had been something of a shock… it felt like her hair should be lighter. And her face felt unfamiliar, something… missing. An absence of freckles, or a too-petite nose. Something. Her eyes were somewhat comforting, although she could swear they were a few touches darker than what felt right… More of a dark chocolate now. It was almost strange enough to ignore the delicate swirls of deep crimson grazing the side of her jaw and brushing the underside of her ears. Growling a bit at the anxiety this activity caused, Sophia splashed water in her face and ran a brush through her hair impatiently. 

After eating and performing her morning ablations, Sophia fairly trotted across the mansion in her attempts to enter the library. Once she came through the doors, she was greeted familiarly by some of the older individuals she had been debating with. She gave a couple a cheeky grin, and one a wave, before she bounded over to the magic section. Such was her enthusiasm that she almost ran into a handsome young man with glowing copper skin, leaning on the shelves and reading a book propped open with one hand while the other stroked the end of his rather impressive mustache.

He looked over to her almost absentmindedly, and then started when he saw the tattoos. “Ah, you’re her aren’t you?” He looked her up and down with academic curiosity. “Fascinating. And the fact that you still live… What are you doing in the library?”

Something about his face was striking a chord in her, similar to when she had been reading about the Pantheon. Why? What about this person, or that book was familiar? Like an uncomfortable case of deja-vu. Sophia fought off the itching. Could nostalgia itch? 

“Reading books? What else does one use a library for?”

His lip twitched in irritation. “Well yes, but why did he let you in here?”

“He? I assume you are referring to Magister Danarius? My grandfather?”

The man’s eyebrows shot to his hairline in surprise. “His granddaughter?” He looked Sophia over again, his eyes narrowing in on her scars several times during the course of the evaluation. He then peered in her eyes with obvious skepticism, “Do you actually believe that?”

Of course not. But this hardly seemed the right time to admit to such. Sophia was still unsure about Danarius’ endgame. If he intended for her to be a bodyguard, or his champion, then why come up with this ruse? She remained silent, head tilted as she gave the man in front of her an intense look. Who was he? Why was he here asking these questions? A spy? She had expected one sooner or later.

The man grew contemplative in the wake of her silence. “Well you don’t seem to be an imbecile at least.”

An imbecile. Great. Is this what people thought of her? Sophia couldn’t help the curl of her lips downwards in irritation and offense. “No. However the same cannot be said of you.” What kind of man would talk about this in the open?

He had the gall to laugh. As if she was being naïve, but that ignorance was somehow charming. Or he was just being a condescending asshole. If Sophia could read minds…

His smile grew easy after he finished chortling. “My name is Dorian Pavus. You must be Lucilla.”

Sophia picked up the insinuation immediately. She remembered her discussion about the families in the magisterium with Ash, and he looked too young to be a Magister, so… “An Altus from the House of Pavus? To what do we owe the pleasure of your visit?” This may have been said with a touch of sarcasm. Or maybe more than a touch.

“Did he not tell you? Your… grandfather. He advertised your trial with the demon later today with some zeal. And of course, a majority of the magisters were skeptical, if not curious, and had to see for themselves… You will have quite the audience later.”

Great. Fan-fucking-tastic. This is not what she needed right now… Sophia tried to let as little of this rising panic and inner censure on her face as possible, but couldn’t stop from frowning. “I see.”

“You don’t look pleased.”

Sophia remembered a quote from _somewhere_ , and felt it applicable. “Life is not a spectacle or a feast; it is a predicament.”

His gaze became curious, his eyes narrowing and lips puckering ever so slightly… But then a man fairly shoved her from her place beside the bookshelf with a hard shoulder and a sneer.  
Sophia could not help the loud, “Excuse me?” as she was jostled back closer to Dorian.

“There is no excuse for you. Why Danarius bothers with such a chit… And you’re not even a mage, apparently. So you have no need to be here. _Soporati_ ,” he fairly growled the term, gesturing to the magic section with an ever present sneer. 

Sophia openly scowled at the man, but forcing herself to turn away before she lost control and snapped at him. With her luck, he would probably turn out to be someone important. Grimacing, and trying to get control of her feelings, she belatedly realized that Dorian was following her long strides out from behind the bookshelves. She spun around to face him, but he put his hands up in surrender. Sophia frowned, her jaw tense, and kept walking.

They came across one of the gentlemen she had been debating with only a day prior. He greeted Dorian with a nod of acknowledgment, and her with a smile. “Lucilla! There you are. I was wondering if you would be willing to play a game of chess with me? With your natural inclination for strategy, I imagine you would make a worthy opponent.”

Dorian interrupted smoothly. “I apologize Magister Naevius, but she just agreed to play a game with me. And my father and I so rarely find ourselves in this part of the Capital… I hope you won’t mind acquiescing just this once?”

That man was a magister? Although, now that she thought about it, who else would be considered Danarius’ contemporaries? Still, Sophia glanced warily at the young man for interceding. What was he after?

The magister’s lips tightened slightly, but otherwise his expression was smooth. “Of course Dorian. And do say hello to your father for me? I haven’t had the opportunity to visit for over a month.”  
Dorian nodded, and lightly touched the area between her shoulder blades, herding her to one of the open chess tables positioned next to the window. She sat down as graciously as she could, then looked at him in suspicion.

He raised one eyebrow at her, before setting up the board. He made the first move, pushing a pawn forward with his index finger with almost reckless abandon, before he remarked on the encounter in the bookshelves.

“Do people often treat you like that? Or is a closer representation Naevius’ reception?”

She ignored his second question. “No. Most are not openly that… rude.”

“And you walked away.” He said it like it was a statement, but there was clearly a question.

“Rudeness is the weak person’s imitation of strength. How could I begrudge him when he obviously has so little?” That last part may have been a bit snide… Sophia hated to be man-handled.

Dorian’s lips rose in clear amusement. “Indeed.” He watched her move a knight from behind the safety of her pawns in curiosity, before adding, “Did you know his great-niece will be attending the…festivities later today?”

Sophia quirked her head curiously. “The Magister Naevius?”

“Mmhm. Maevaris Tilani, related through her late mother I believe.”

Sophia raised a brow. That name sounded familiar, but she couldn’t remember why. Someone Ash had mentioned in passing?

“The woman who recently took her father’s seat through cunning machinations? Her whole life seems to be something of a scandal- such an admirable woman. In any case, no one knows for sure why she is coming _here_.”

Sophia stared. Why was he telling her this? How would she know? “I see. And why are you here?”

“Me? I am interested in magical possibilities, my dear. In research beyond our current knowledge, in learning more about our potential when it is not bogged down because of _complacency_.”

Sophia could feel herself frowning again. “To what end?”

Dorian raised a curious brow. “Pardon?”

Sophia continued her train of thought, her voice gaining fervor as she passionately bemoaned her own situation, “Potential and possibilities to what end? Is this your attempt to gain knowledge for knowledge’s sake? But what happens when that knowledge is applied, and people suffer as a result? Or are they simply necessary sacrifices in the pursuit of progress?”

Dorian looked taken aback. “Why does knowledge need to necessitate suffering?”

“It doesn’t. But are you conducting research in order to help people?”

He frowned. “Not necessarily?”

Sophia nodded. “If your research does not have a specified purpose, then doesn’t it carry the potential that you will learn things that could cause people harm?”

Dorian seemed to take offense, forgetting about the chessboard as he drew back to cross his arms defensively, frowning. “My research is purely theoretical…”

“So it is impossible to apply?”

“Well, no…”

“Then doesn’t it carry the possibility that someone will try, even if it is not you? With devastating effects?”

Dorian remained silent, but his stare grew intense.

Sophia sighed, and then gestured down on the deep scars visible on her hands and forearms. “This procedure was so painful I lost all of my memories. I wake up to tears in my pillow every morning on the days I manage to sleep because of the throbbing. I cannot touch anyone or anything without flinching. And why? To fulfill someone’s idle curiosity? To fulfill some kind of dark purpose? But do I truly deserve any of this suffering?”

“No, of course not.” He was still frowning, but his gaze grew contemplative. He idly traced his chin with a finger as he added, “Who are you?”

Sophia felt like snorting, for some odd reason. She moved her knight and captured a bishop. “A girl trapped in a gilded cage.”

Dorian nodded absentmindedly. And then changed the subject. “Magister Naevius mentioned you were skilled with strategy?”

“I enjoy debating war and political strategy.”

Dorian’s lips spread into a smirk. “Let’s see what you have to say. I admit, my expectations are rather high at this point.”

Sophia gave him a crooked smile in return, feeling more comfortable now that they were discussing something familiar and… safe. Comparatively.

“I will do my best. I would hate to disappoint.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Translation/Explanations/Quotes:  
> Th'ea? = Are you okay?  
> Ma itha geal'un = You look frightened.  
> Ara me nedan = I am lost.  
> Attrition warfare = strategy involving wearing down an opponent to the point of collapse with loss of personnel or resources  
> Pitched battles = battle in which both sides choose the location and time  
> Choke point = a narrow geographic space used to confine the enemy and maximize available sources  
> Decisive point = geographic locations or key event that allows commanders to take a clear advantage over an enemy
> 
> Life is not a spectacle or a feast; it is a predicament. George Santayana  
> Rudeness is the weak person’s imitation of strength. Eric Hoffer


	5. Demons Galore

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Of which there are demons and Magisters. And whatever mysterious thing that separates them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this story will be pretty lore-intensive... And very plot-heavy, at least initially. Please let me know if that is something that appeals to you. I intend to modify my story summary to serve as a heads up for potential readers. And I changed the way I did translations. Is this better?

“Few people are capable of expressing with equanimity opinions which differ from the prejudices of their social environment. Most people are incapable of forming such opinions." -Albert Einstein

**Chapter 5: Demons Galore**

Dorian was not over exaggerating. Sophia definitely had an audience. The area surrounding the practice rings was packed with people, and an unusually solicitous Danarius ushered her past the line of spectators. She heard people whisper as they passed, and felt her ‘grandfather’s’ fingers tighten on her shoulder in response.

“How do you think he will summon the demon? I heard a rumor that he copied techniques from the South. Something called a… harrowing. Have you heard of the practice? Utterly barbaric…”

“Look at her, the state of those scars… He obviously used blood magic, and yet he is so bold as to flaunt that fact in our face as if it was somehow acceptable. How distasteful.”

“That… _Soporati_ is going to fight a demon? Two tesseraes says she is ripped to pieces.”

Danarius pushed her into a delineated circle in the clearing, and left after giving her an intense look. Almost glaring. As if Sophia wasn’t already feeling apprehensive. She stood there, anxiously gripping the hilt of her unsheathed sword, and watched as a small group of mages approached. They surrounded the edge of the summoning circle, an intricate pattern of intersecting circles and runes painted on stone, and began chanting.

It did not take as long as she expected. One moment there was emptiness in the circle, the next there was a hooded figure wearing tattered black robes. The skin on the creature was grey, it’s mouth large and crowded with pointy incisors. It’s overly large hands were open, the large knuckles knarred and wrinkled.

The demon’s appearance should have been more disturbing, but Sophia was rather preoccupied with the feelings. She could feel the… drowning. The sorrows. Hundreds of desperate whispers and despondent wails. But more than that, the pull. Underneath the feeling of grief and distress, there was an energy, a will, that shone from beneath the loose, leathery skin…

Sophia took a step forward, completely forgetting about the shield on the ground beside her and the sword still sheathed by her side. She was led by that pull. The want that always seemed to be present, humming unnoticed beneath her skin, that started thrumming wildly as she drew closer... She needed to touch it. She needed to claim it. She _needed_.

The demon let out a shaky, rattling breath. Watched as she advanced, looking bewitched. Hesitated, and then took a step back. Sophia took another step forward, and the demon’s back hit the back of the summoning circle, where a glow of runes kept it confined. The demon snarled, and then flung a stream of icicles towards her. She barely noticed, ignoring the gasps and mutterings from the crowd as the icicles froze her left side painlessly and then melted from around her body in seconds, as natural as breathing. The demon started breathing more heavily, and flung out another jet of ice. 

Sophia waved her hand nonchalantly, and the magic parted. She took those final steps until she was standing right in front of the demon that spoke of despair. Sophia’s nose wrinkled at the smell; it was like death. Rotting meat. Still, she reached forward, desperate to touch. She grabbed it’s wrist, and pulled its body towards her. And suddenly she could feel that energy. And she could feel their sorrows. 

A woman crying into the night, clutching a too-still infant. A man clawing at stone walls in desperation, fingernails cracked and bleeding, forgotten and starving. An ambush in the middle of the night, her dress pulled up, the pain spreading, a hand pressed to her mouth to smother her screams. A child was struck in the face with a belt, whimpering, pleading, tears and snot sticking dirt to his face, why can’t mother save me. 

Their stories, their cries, their desperation, their _despair_ clung to the energy of the Fade as it moved from it’s body into hers. Sophia looked into the small mouse-like eyes of demon awash dark swirls of magic, saw fear and hatred, and hated. It was too much. Their screams, echoing in her head. The shrieking, indelicate sobs of frustration and hopelessness. The feelings flooded into Sophia, causing tears to run down her face, but…but she felt nauseous because it wasn’t entirely unpleasant. Her scars glowed a bright red, illuminating the circle, and the lyrium sang a glorious triumph. It was a rush of pleasure, like the brightest orgasm, and Sophia gasped around the tears. Looked and saw the last of the demon disintegrate and enter the swirling red aura surrounding her body. And from the audience, silence.

It was somehow deafening. The ringing in her ears that felt like there was noise, but reality was utterly still. Unnerving. Although Sophia was too overwhelmed at this point to process the consequences. She felt as if she were at sea, being thrown about carelessly by turbulent waves of pain, anger, sorrow, joy, satisfaction…

She looked up as she saw a man approach, and saw Danarius stop just outside the circle. He was grinning a grim grin that made her feel… grimy. Ha. Ha ha. Recognizing the symptoms of approaching hysteria, Sophia tried to calm herself down. This was not the time. Looking around, seeing all of the gathered Magisters and Altuses, distinguishable based on the differences stitched into their robes… really not the right time to break down. She felt her skin stretch in something reminiscent of a smile as she nodded to the man, who nodded back and dissolved the circle.

What followed was clearly some twisted version of show and tell. Danarius led her around to different groups of tittering people, his hand remaining determinately on her shoulder in a clear display of control and dominance, as he answered questions for her. She smiled at them absentmindedly, while attempting to not to let the resentment from this objectification and… demarcation of ownership be displayed on her face. It was a difficult battle.

There were several groups they encountered that were memorable simply because Danarius allowed her the opportunity to verbally contribute. She was not surprised to see that Dorian was in one such group.

“Ah, Lucilla, we meet again!” The mustached man gave the Magister behind her a small bow. “Magister Danarius.”

Sophia couldn’t see the man behind her, but the tone of his reply sounded like he was sneering. “Dorian. What a pleasure. I had no idea you would be attending. Or that you somehow knew our dear… Lucilla.”

Dorian smiled dashingly, completely unfazed by the man’s tone. “I happened to meet her in the library this morning. Such a serendipitous occasion; we played chess and enjoyed a good scholarly debate. I must say, that even without that impressive display just now, you must consider yourself a lucky man. Not everyone can claim to have such a bright granddaughter.”

His grip on her shoulder tightened to the point of pain, and Sophia was forced to clench her teeth in order to stop herself from hissing. “Indeed.”

Dorian’s eyes flashed for a moment, before he gestured to the young man standing beside him with a flourish. He looked Sophia in the eye. “And your exquisite timing continues, my Lady. This here is my dear friend Felix Alexius. He is also rather interested in the relationship between religion and political power, and the use of divine provenance towards establishing a precedent and justifying military intervention. And I thought, who better to introduce and then prove you both wrong than myself?”

Felix and Sophia gave each other a quick once-over. Sophia saw that Dorian’s friend was dressed smartly, his dark hair cut close to the scalp, and a neat trim proudly displaying a line of sideburn. He appeared to be fit, if rather pale when compared to his copper friend (was this illness, or was he naturally that color?). He also had an easy-going, happy kind of smile, which he bestowed upon her after he had finished his evaluation. Sophia couldn’t stop herself from beaming at him in return.

“A pleasure to meet you, Felix.” 

The young man came forward and took her hand, before kissing her fingertips suavely. Sophia felt her cheeks blush, and ignored the too-tight grip on her shoulders.

Sophia experienced the odd urge to curtsy in reply, feeling ungainly in a long tunic and boots. 

Danarius pulled her back before she could make a fool of herself, and looked like he was about to make excuses for their departure, when a bell rang from somewhere in the complex. Less than half a minute passed before a man ran out to them from underneath a stone archway. “Magister!”

Danarius must have appeared conflicted, because Dorian was quick to capitalize on the moment of confusion. “My dear Magister, please feel free to attend to any troubles. Felix and I would be happy to keep the lady company until you return.”

Another few moments of silence, before the man behind her released her shoulder and Sophia had to bite down on the sweeping feeling of relief. Although she wasn’t sure if she did this convincingly enough, based on the look Felix and Dorian were both giving her. Danarius was quick to bark orders at the young men, sounding irritated and harried. “Keep her on the field. Do not wander. I will be back momentarily.” He then rushed out behind the archway with the anxious messenger.

Dorian did not hesitate to offer his arm. “My lady?”

Sophia took it, feeling bemused. And then amused when Felix shot the Altus a playful glare, and offered her his arm as well. Sophia beamed again as she took it, and both men made quick work of leading her through the crowd. The sensation of their skin on hers was only a tad overwhelming, but she was fine after a deep, steadying breath. And she seemed to acclimate to it a little over time.

It helped that Dorian kept up an entertaining commentary the entire time, which made Sophia giggle unabashedly. 

“You see the man over there with the gleaming bald spot? Shiny and reflective enough to blind a random passerby? That is Magister Aurarius, who was rumored to have started a slave rebellion in order to garner support for his campaign to raise funding for the Circle. And that man with the unfortunate come-over? Irian Amladaris, who I hear is attempting to become the representative of House Amladaris in the Magisterium. Perhaps he came here to find support? Oh, and that is Erasthenes, apparently the most renowned scholar of the Old Gods in the Imperium. Now why, by the Maker, would he be _here_?”

Dorian turned to her and gave her a glance that was almost accusing. As if it were her fault. “You attract the strangest people, my dear. First Magister Naevius, then Maevaris Tilani. Now Erasthenes and myself. All known hermits or social outcasts, and yet you seem to have quite the following.”

Sophia felt her right brow raise.

And then Dorian spotted a fashionably cut head of blonde curls. “Ah, Magister Tilani! We were just talking about you! Would you like to meet the woman of the hour?”

The woman turned, and Sophia unconsciously tilted her head in curiosity. She had the face of woman- painted and beautiful- but the body of a young man. Suddenly Dorian’s comments about her scandal made more sense. Catching eyes with their group, Maevaris swept towards them, speaking, “Ah, yes. Dorian. Felix. Hello loves. And this is?”

Sophia answered before she realized she had opened her mouth. “Sophia.” She felt both set of arms tighten at her sides, and realized her mistake. She took a deep breath to calm the mounting anxiety, and then met the woman’s gaze stubbornly. Nothing for it now.

The woman’s eyes flashed as calculation set. “How interesting. That is not the name Danarius used.”

Sophia felt her chin rise in defiance, still somewhat upset at herself, but displacing the anger. “Why ask me a question that you already know the answer to, unless you were anticipating a different result?”

The woman’s smile was cold. “Etiquette? Perhaps I was trying to be polite.”

Sophia frowned, feeling defensive. “By asking the marked and tortured _Soporati_ , owned and handled despite the lack of designation as a slave, to introduce herself? Were you expecting me to denigrate myself? Is that what is considered polite in Tevinter?”

Maevaris’ eyes narrowed, and Sophia realized with embarrassment that the reaction was too harsh. She was the one behaving rudely. She gave the woman a strained smile. “Forgive me, Lady Tilani. I recently absorbed a demon, and am feeling a bit testy.”

The woman nodded, although her face remained closed off. “Yes, I imagine that would be a… trying experience.”

Sophia’s smiled wryly. “I wouldn’t suggest it. The smell alone…”

The Magister’s lips quirked, briefly. “I can imagine.”

Sophia tilted her head, considering. “Lucilla is not a name that I am partial towards.”

Maevaris mimicked her stance with crossed arms. “Really?”

“Yes. And I am of the belief that if there is an aspect of yourself that rings true for you but goes against society’s expectations, you should be able to change it. Regardless of their censure, or spoiled presumptions. And I am not afraid to instigate those changes. So yes, Sophia if you wouldn’t mind.” Sophia purposely alluded to the Magister’s personal choice regarding gender, and expected the men at her side to tense in some manner, but Dorian’s grip was surprising. She squeezed his forearm in a manner she hoped would be taken as reassurance.

The Magister grinned rakishly at that response, amusement clear in her eyes. “What a bold little thing you are.”

Sophia inclined her head, and once again felt the urge to curtsy. Awkward to do out of dress, though.

The Magister’s eyes flickered. “I heard a rumor claiming you were Danarius’ granddaughter?”

Sophia smiled. “With the way I am dressed, Lady Tilani?” 

Maevaris mouth pursed, and eyes narrowed, considering. “I am sure we will have the opportunity to speak at a later time. Do you receive letters?”

Sophia found herself frowning again. “I wouldn’t know. I have never received one.”

“But you can read and write?”

“Yes, Lady Tilani.”

The set of Maevaris’s mouth became determined. “Then expect one. I will come and visit in the near future. And we will see what we can change.” She left just as gracefully as she had arrived, and then two men beside her turned to look at her in unison. Both were frowning.

Dorian looked confused. “You found it within yourself to ignore some… pompous imbecile who physically assaulted you, yet you talk back to a wealthy Magister for asking for your name?” 

Sophia shot him a hard look. “Have you ever absorbed a Demon, Dorian?”

The man had the gall to pout.

Felix was more circumspect. “I thought Dorian was exaggerating, as he is wont to do, but… you are rather capable, aren’t you?”

Sophia tossed her head nonchalantly, feeling her curls resettle on the back of her neck as she did so. “I have no idea to what you could be referring to, Felix…” He grinned, and then Sophia’s attention was caught by several individuals wearing elaborate articles of clothing, paired with even more elaborate masks. “Who are they?”

Dorian turned to where she was looking. “Ah. That man there, with that enormous feather attached to his hat? Not overcompensating for anything, of course. That is an associate of Magister Nanterius, who is that comely looking woman beside him. She is interested in mining operations in Orlais at the moment, attempting to swindle them out of their true value on the basis that the Civil War lowers property value. So those masked individuals are probably representatives from Orlais…”

He trailed off, as Sophia was already moving toward the group, dragging the two young men along with her. She circled and approached then in such a way that she was able to face both the Magister, her associate, and the Orlesians directly in front of her. Control the battle, yes? She continued to take control by addressing the group first. “Avanna Lady Nanterius,” she stated, nodding to the woman. Who nodded back curiously. Then Sophia turned to the Orlesians. “Bonsoir messieurs! Comment vas-tu ce soir?” _Hello gentlemen! How are you tonight?_

One of them turned towards her, looking fascinated. “Vous pouvez parler Orlesian?” _You can speak Orlesian?_

Sophia grinning, pleased that Julius had been correct when he stated French was the same thing as Orlesian. “Je peux! Mais j’ai si rarement l’occasion de parler ici.” _I can! But I rarely have the opportunity to speak it here._

The other man nodded in a commiserating fashion. “Oui. La plupart des Orlesians préfèrent rester à Orlais. Nous allons bien.” _Yes. Most Orlesians prefer to stay in Orlais. We are well._

Sophia noticed the Magister was frowning, and turned to the woman with what she hoped was a winning smile. “I apologize Lady Nanterius! I so rarely get the opportunity to practice Orlesian, and when I saw the masks… I fear my excitement interrupted your conversation.”

The woman returned the smile, appearing placated. “I understand, my dear. Please do not worry, this was just a preliminary meeting.”

Sophia nodded with a slightly over-exaggerated look of understanding, and then curiosity. “Of course. Are you looking to expand your business to Orlais? I hear that your previous ventures have been very successful.” Sophia was guessing, of course, but surely a company wouldn’t look to expand unless they had had some showing of success?

The woman’s lips quirked upwards, looking pleased. “I am. Where did you learn this?”

Sophia smiled. “You know of Magister Lucius Privernas?” One of the gentlemen Sophia had a habit of debating with in the library, who she was especially fascinated with because of his perspective towards influencing legislation and bypassing litigation as means of promoting his personal business. And from what she had gathered from him and others in the library, he was very successful at it. She attempted to debate ethics with him, but apparently the man was a moral nihilist, and could not be reasoned with. She wondered now why he spent time arguing with her- did he think her ideals quaint? Did that amuse him to some extent?

Lady Nanterius’ dark eyes flashed with interest. “Of course.” 

Sophia nodded. “He and I have had many conversations about the effects of legislation on business, and the various business enterprises currently conducted in the Imperium. Your attempts to expand your mining enterprise were mentioned.” Sort of. In passing.

The Magister’s smile grew. “I see.”

Sophia grew thoughtful. “He is actually surprisingly informed about the entrepreneurship in this country, given how little he seems to travel.”

The Magister laughed. “He has kept to the city to celebrate First Day, which is usually celebrated among friends and family. From what I have heard, he does indeed travel. He makes it a point to keep up on his business ventures in person.”

Sophia joined the laughter. “Ah, of course! How could I forget First Day. Thank you for reminding me.”

Lady Nanterius’ smile remained. “You are interested in business?”

Sophia nodded enthusiastically. “I am! As well as politics and travel. And other languages. Orlesian est agréable à la langue.” _Orlesian is pleasing to the tongue_. She grinned at the Orlesians. They smiled indulgently at her in return.

Lady Nanterius nodded. “Well, we will have to speak of this more, won’t we? I’m afraid I should continue my discussion with my friends at the moment, but maybe at a later date? Expect a letter.” Then she nodded at the two young men on either side of her, "Lord Pavus. Lord Alexius." 

Recognizing the dismissal, Sophia stated. “Of course. Au revoir! J'espère que ta nuit sera géniale.” _Good bye! I hope your night will be great_. Then she turned away, lightly tugging the men at her side. Both turned to look at her again after they were a few paces away.

Dorian spoke first. “I see that Magister Naevius has not been your only debate partner in the library.”

Sophia looked up to him and blinked innocently. “I talk to many people.”

He snorted.

Felix laughed. “You seem to have a talent for it.”

Sophia giggled. “For what, talking? Opening my mouth?”

Felix smirked. “Convincing people you are somehow both harmless and ignorant, but knowledgeable and useful. It is… quite interesting. Especially given your handicap.” He looked down at the scars swirling in the forearm he has grasped with his in consternation.

Sophia rolled her eyes, attempting to downplay his implication, and his… pity. It was an uncomfortable thing.

Luckily, they stumbled in on another group. A member of which addressed the two men escorting her by name. The older man had thick eyebrows, heavy against the wrinkles on his face, and strangely shaped facial hair. Was that a soul patch? “Felix! Dorian! There you are. And what do we have here?”

Felix answered the man smoothly. “Hello Father. This is Lady Sophia. Lady Sophia, this is my father, Magister Gereon Alexius.”

Another curtsy moment. Damn. Instead Sophia smiled and stated, “Avanna Magister. It’s a pleasure to meet you.” She expected both men to let her go now that they were in the company of Felix’s father, and was mildly surprised to see that they did not. Were they laying some sort of claim? Was there some cultural practice at work that she wasn’t aware of?

The Magister addressed her. “That was an impressive display.”

Sophia smiled blandly. “Do you think so? I think my showmanship could use some work.”

The Magister chuckled. “You are young. And you didn’t look like you were expecting an audience.”

Another grim smile. “I was, just not of this magnitude. I think at least half of the Magisterium is here.”

Another chuckle. “So it appears. But you are rather a novelty, are you not? Danarius was hardly the first to experiment with red lyrium, and yet here you are… completely coherent, and not suffering from the taint. No small feat.”

Sophia couldn’t stop her eyebrows from raising in unsettled disbelief. “Was everyone here expecting me to be some sort of lunatic?”

The Magister gave an easy smile, Felix’s smile, although this one seemed more calculated. “We did not know what to expect. Hence, the audience. Although I can admit that Danarius’ claims sounded outlandish at the time.”

Sophia felt her mouth twist oddly. “I aim to please.”

The Magister’s face hardened, and he gave her an intense look. “That is good to hear.” Another second, and the look was gone, and he was genially introducing his colleagues. “This is Leviculix Porenni and Livius Erimond. Both members of the Magisterium.” Both men sneered at her.

Feeling contrary and strangely confident between two handsome young men (who wouldn’t), Sophia smiled brightly and wriggled her fingers at them from where they laid on top of Dorian’s forearm. “Good evening, gentlemen. Fine weather we are having.”

The man introduced as Magister Erimond, with stringy, almost greasy black hair, scoffed at her attempt at small talk. But looked down at the scars exposed on her skin with an intense look. “Gereon is right, of course. You should be showing some sign of instability, considering the quantity of red lyrium injected into your skin… tell me, what is your connection to the Fade?”

Sophia stared and him blinked, surprised. She thought that only mages were connected to the Fade on the level that he was suggesting. And she was no mage?

She apparently spoke her inquiries out loud, because Magister Erimond addressed them. “You think that demonstration you just made with the demon was somehow non-magical?” His voice fairly dripped with sarcasm and disdain, in equal measures. 

“Shouldn’t I have a magical aura? Or something?” She looked to the man on her right. “Do I feel magical to you, Dorian?”

Dorian stiffened in surprise for only a moment at her side, before Sophia could feel him forcibly relax. “No, my dear.”

She looked back at Magister Erimond pointedly. The man gave a huff in irritation. “That is not the way red lyrium works, _my dear_. It feeds on a person’s connection to the Fade in order to grow. And regardless of whether you were a mage before, red lyrium is _inherently_ magical.”

Sophia noticed the other magisters shuffle their feet, as if uncomfortable about either the subject, or the amount of information Livius was willing to indulge. Interesting. “I admit that, never having been a mage, I do not have the experience to identify magic within myself. However, I don’t think I have the connection with the Fade that you seem to be implying.”

Magister Erimond’s sneer filled his face. “And I am telling you that it is not possible. The fact that you still live would have to imply some connection, otherwise why would the red lyrium remain there at all…”

Sophia interceded with logic. “Unless, of course, I have no connection with the Fade, which is why the stuff has not interfered with my mental facilities, and why it seemed to reach out to the demon. In order to steal the demon’s connection to the Fade.”

Magister Porenni felt the need to speak up, his gaze intense. “Everyone has a connection to the Fade, however small. It is in the nature of the world.”

Sophia frowned at him. “Everyone? And you do not question? Forgive me if I sound skeptical, but that would be impossible to test.”

His eyes narrowed. “You need to test everything before you can accept it as truth?”

Sophia felt confused, because, obviously? “Of course. Too often ‘natural truths’ are influenced by the misinterpretation or misrepresentation of man. But a test? Reproducible and consistent despite the different vesting interests of the researchers, despite the political or religious leanings at the time?”

The man frowned. “And what of your faith? In circumstances impossible to test?”

Ah. Sophia was interested in religion as a construct, as a unifying force, as a cultural point of significance for other people, but for herself? “I will reserve judgment until such a time comes where I have more proof.”

The man’s brow raised. “So you are a heretic?”

Sophia scoffed. “I am a scientist. Who can acknowledge how, throughout history, extraordinary men and women have been made into saints, prophets, or gods because the people need some kind of answer for their existence. I am not denouncing any faith. For all I know, the Elvhen Creators currently roam the Fade, the Old Gods are bidding their time to reappear, the Lady in the Skies actually speak to the Avvar, and there is a Maker watching over us all. But until I have some proof of something like omniscience or omnipotence, I intend to reserve judgment.”

“Sounds like heresy to me.”

Sophia had to resist the urge to roll her eyes. “I am a skeptic. Not necessarily a nonbeliever. In any case, it is important to ask questions, even if you think my theories are foolish. A wise man can learn more from a foolish question than a fool can learn from a wise answer, after all. And you do not strike me as a fool.”

The Magister’s face twisted, like he had just smelled something distasteful. He sniffed. Then he postulated, “I suppose if it _were_ possible you lack a connection… then, yes, your interaction with the demon would make sense. So that display was not actually performed by yourself?”

Sophia shook her head. “I suspect the lyrium was using my body as a conduit.” She frowned as she considered that. She basically lost control of her body, which was more than a little disturbing. She felt her lips purse in anxious consideration. “I wonder if I can learn to control it. Especially if it as sentient as you seem to suggest.”

The three Magisters paled, and Magister Erimond asked, “You think the red lyrium acted in its own interest?”

So this was not something they had actively considered? “It altered my state of consciousness, yes, in order to further its own purpose. Why? In any of your experiments, have you witnessed a similar loss of control? Although I wonder how far the level of influence goes.” She turned towards the young men beside her. “And if that is true, then wouldn’t it attempt to reach out and steal Dorian and Felix’s connection to the Fade? What are the limits to this effect?”

Both men holding her arms paled, and Magister Alexius took a few steps forward and practically ripped his son from her side with anxious determination. “Felix?”

He smiled widely at his father. “I am fine. Actually…” he paused, and then looked back at Sophia curiously, “more than fine.”

And then Magister Alexius’s eyes fairly shone. “Really?” He looked back at her with renewed interest.

Sophia looked up at the man still holding her arm gallantly. The color had returned in his cheeks, but his eyes were narrowed. She looked between him and the pair of men in front of her. “What am I missing?”

Dorian looked down at her. “Certainly as much as I am, my dear.” He looked up, stiffened, and then added, “Well, _Sophia_ ,” he paused and gave her a meaningful look, “this has been an enlightening exchange. You can expect letters from me as well. I have not been so entertained in _ages_.”

Sophia looked up and saw Magister Danarius bounding towards them, a thunderous look on his face. Felix bent in front of her, mindless of the approaching Magister, and took the hand he had dropped. He delivered a goodbye kiss on her knuckles. “Au revoir charmant. Je vais essayer de vous rendre visite bientôt.” _Good bye, charmer. I will try to visit you soon._

Sophia blushed. “Je vais avoir hâte d'avoir de vos nouvelles.” _I’m looking forward to hearing from you._

Dorian grumbled good-naturally from her side. “Felix! Making the rest of us look like a bunch of ill-mannered ogres…” He waited to let go of her arm until Danarius inserted himself into the small group. “Magister Danarius. We have kept the lady company, just as promised.”

The expression on the Magister’s face was impatient and stressed, and the smiled he bestowed on the Altus was more of a grimace. “Dorian. Felix. Magisters. I am afraid the Lady needs to rest for the night.” He turned to her. “Lucilla, if you would head in for the night.” She did not miss the reaction of the men around her at the name. Sigh. 

“Of course. If you will excuse me gentlemen.” She gave a small bow, once again having to suppress the urge to curtsy (did she curtsy in her past life? Just, why?), before she headed towards her bedroom.

Plenty to think about as she attempted to fall asleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A wise man can learn more from a foolish question than a fool can learn from a wise answer. -Bruce Lee


	6. True Intentions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which men struggle for control.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: There will be violence and sexual assault in the first part of this chapter. Proceed with caution.

“Do you not see how necessary a world of pains and troubles is to school an intelligence and make it a soul?” ― John Keats

**Chapter 6: True Intentions**

Sophia was ashamed to admit that she should have known better. She didn’t need to remember everything to understand and follow common sense, right? In retrospect, it seemed obvious. But at the time? Sure, she knew he had lied to her, and was likely keeping tabs on her for the Magister, but they had had those small human interactions that make you know a person. She knew how he liked his tea, that he was likely allergic to dust, that he hated dogs. And knowing a person seemed to lead to trust, even unconsciously given.

She was paying for that now.

Sophia had woken up from another disturbing dream filled with grasping red and warbled demands, and had been eager to start her day. For the first time in a long time she felt in control, and she was looking forward to the future… eagerly awaiting letters, happy that she was still capable of flirting and conversing. She felt so hopeful heading to the library.

Julius had been quick to intercept her, and Sophia thought his expression odd at the time (too intense for the conversation that were having about _rugs_ , of all things…). She thought something was wrong. Concerned about his well-being, when he asked her to step inside his room for a moment so they could discuss something in private, she easily acquiesced.

He closed the door behind her, and then started to pace as if he could not quite decide how to begin. He stopped himself, strode across the room, and drew some wine into a glass. He downed a mouthful, paced for another minute, and then swung in front of her.

Only to swing back around and down another gulp.

“Julius?” Sophia asked in concern.

That seemed to snap him out of his indecision. He sneered, turning back towards her, the cup of wine clutched in his right hand. “ _Sophia_ , was it?”

Sophia blanched. Is that what this was about?

“I had suspected, you know, that you had not forgotten everything. Some of your arguments could be attributed to logic, but then you would say… _things_ , make references that I couldn’t readily understand.” He took another long swallow.

“I can’t remember everything-“ she started to say, hoping to explain. That she could only remember odd things like skills and knowledge about subjects, but nothing about herself.

“But you know enough. And you had us all played for fools, didn’t you?” Julius interrupted, starting to sound angry as well as disdainful.

“Excuse me?” Sophia asked defensively.

“Not that I don’t have any admiration for your wiles. Your little act of wide-eyed ignorance was convincing. And who could have known how conniving you would turn out to be?”

Sophia felt… confused. Angry and insulted, but mostly confused. What on earth was he talking about?

“Oh, don’t give me that look. As if you are surprised. You should be happy to hear that your ruse proved successful. Danarius received several letters this morning from the Magisters you apparently talked up yesterday evening, all asking for your company. They claimed you are free to go as you wish, as he appeared to have no real hold on you. And Danarius was caught in a bind. He hadn’t introduced you as a slave, and if he did so now, your new… friends would protest at the Magisterium. And those are enemies he cannot afford to keep. So he was forced to make you his legal granddaughter.”

Julius downed the wine, and then added, “Congratulations. I don’t believe this manner of rank-elevation has been accomplished in the Imperium in decades. He was… extremely unhappy with me.” He put down the cup of wine and began to unbutton his leather jacket.

Sophia nervously bit her lip, but refused to take a step back. “Danarius does not own me. I belong to myself.”

Julius scoffed at that assertion, disrobing his jacket with a roll of his shoulder, before he began to unbutton the shirt underneath. “Don’t be ridiculous. After all of the time and magical investment Danarius put into you? You are his. And he now has the legal right to collect you should you leave.”

Sophia eyes narrowed, although she couldn’t stop herself from watching Julius’s fingers apprehensively. “I am not a child.”

Julius gave her an ugly smirk. “No, but you are a woman. And an unstable one at that. And your… grandfather is a wealthy man. Keeping you shouldn’t be difficult.” He dropped the outer shirt, and started to unbuckle the various straps and belts that made up his ensemble.

Sophia felt cornered. She took a deep breath to keep the anxiety at bay. “May I ask why you are disrobing?”

Julius simpered sardonically, “Don’t you want to see what he did to me in his rage this morning?” 

He finished unbuckling, and then tore off his inner tunic. He wasn’t bleeding, but his skin was heavily bruised in his arms and torso, bright purple and blue blemishes that bloomed under his skin. The bruises continued under his breeches. There was also a long necklace covering his torso, but Sophia couldn’t make out what it was. Julius stumbled a few steps toward her, hissing, “This was your fault.”

Sophia couldn’t stop herself this time from stepping back and putting her arms in front of her body defensively. “I didn’t touch you.”

Julius sneered. “You didn’t have to. I wanted you to know that there were victims to your deceit. But I suppose I should have suspected you to play it off. No matter.” He took another step towards her, his fists clenched.

Sophia took another step back and felt her back hit the solid wood door. She fumbled with the doorknob with her left-hand, not daring to look away from Julius, but found that he had locked it. Another deep breath, but the nervousness was bubbling beneath her skin anyways. “So what do you plan to do now?”

“Oh, _Sophia_ …” he pronounced her name in a dramatic, long-drawn out way, “do you really need to ask?”

She was too anxious to properly consider that (did he mean to kill her, or rape her?). She blocked the hand coming to grasp her arm, but missed the one headed for her throat. So this was murder, then? Although wouldn’t that have consequences? She wanted to move, to knee him in the groin or something, but she was in shock. Sophia started hyperventilating.

He pressed her throat against the back of the door with just a little more force, his fingers tight, and suddenly Sophia was gasping for air. “You will let me take what I want. And you won’t say anything to anyone about it. More of your fate lies in my hands than you might think.” He loosened the pressure on her throat, reached up with his other hand and started to pull at her tunic. He shoved it up her torso, and cupped one of her breasts through the breast bind. 

Fuck. So it was the other one. Sophia buckled against him, a sense of urgency snapping her into action, but then suddenly she couldn’t breathe…

“No!” the man snarled, “You have no idea what my life has become because of you. Forced to follow you around, listen to your _inane_ conversation with decrepit Magisters, wait on you like a fucking _servant_ … you _will_ submit to me.” Then he shoved his face into hers in a brutal kiss, nipping harshly on her bottom lip, before shoving his tongue into her mouth. It hurt, and his mouth tasted like piss. Ugh. Alcohol?

Fuck that. Sophia bit down on his tongue with enough force to draw blood, and the world turned white. He had shoved her head into the wood _hard_ , and she couldn’t breathe… She clawed at his arm with fingers, uselessly grasping skin, but she couldn’t see, think, she couldn’t _breathe_ …

As her fingers became slack, suddenly there was air, and Julius wasted no time attempting to tug down her breeches. He cupped her over her smalls, and Sophia attempted to buckle again. She was confused and panicky; what happened to her supposed strength? Why couldn’t she just throw him? She tugged her hands on his arms, trying to get them away from her body, and then shot out her legs hoping to make contact, but he just shoved her lower body into the door with his own and pressed on her neck again. In short order Sophia was once again gasping.

Julius’s smirk was mean and vindictive. “Not so strong now, are you?” he chuckled in derision, “What, do you think I am stupid? I have been watching you practice. I know your strength.” He reached down to his chest and showed her the necklace she had seem from a distance. It was a metal figure of a soldier covered with runes, held by a strong chain. “Amulet of the Warrior. My old master didn’t notice it missing amidst trying not to bleed out during an elven rebellion. Fool believed me when I told him it was lost.”

He dropped the pendant from his hand, and immediately started to pull down Sophia’s smalls. He raked his fingernails through the small amount of hair at the apex of her thighs in satisfaction. “Mine,” he reiterated, before plunging a finger into her. He frowned. “A bit dry though.”

Fuck, his manhandling hurt her sensitive skin…

His hand worked its way up her body, and he tried to pull at the breast bindings, but they were bound too tight. He snarled, and _pulled_ , and there was a ripping sound, and then… He massaged one breast, and then the other, tweaking a nipple almost absentmindedly. God help her, Sophia could feel pleasure in it, and hated herself more than a little for the weakness. After failing to bite down on a groan of pain after a brutal tug, the man seemed to decide she was enjoying herself, and dropped his arm from her throat to begin tugging at his breeches.

Sophia wasted no time taking advantage of that mistake. She lunged and brought the corner of her elbow into his face, and then brought her knee up into his just exposed crotch. He doubled over, and then another kick sent him to the floor. “Venhedis,” he swore, holding his nose through wincing eyes as blood started to ooze through the orifices.

She needed to leave. Right now. She turned back to the door and shoved against it a couple of time, but the wood was solid and she couldn’t think straight, panicking….

A key. There must be a key. Sophia flew across the room, almost tripping on her pants as she tried to pull them up, opening the drawers to the nightstand beside the bed trying to find it. She didn’t notice Julius until he was right behind her holding a knife against her throat.

“You,” he took a deep breath, “bitch.” The knife cut into the skin of her throat hard enough to draw blood, and Sophia could feel tears pour down her cheeks in frustration. Goddammit. 

They were in a stalemate for a few moments, before she could feel him attempting to rub his hand against her ass-cheeks. Unmindful of the knife, Sophia shot forward away from him, and the knife caught on the skin of her throat as she bolted past him. The pain of the wound burned, her fear overpowering enough to feel tangible, her anxiety causing the muscles in her forearms and calves to tense and ache from the cortisol rush running through her veins… And all she could think of was her hurt, and her fear, and she barely noticed the thrumming red that pulsed in time with the small spurts of blood gushing from the wound around her neck. She barely noticed the pull, her fists held defensively against her body as she shook, tears streaming. She did, however, notice his screams as the edges of his skin closest to her started to disintegrate into a red spray, an energy separating from the red that was easily absorbed by her body.

“No, stop!” Julius shouted in fear, which quickly turned to panicked outrage. “Do you know what will happen to you if you kill me?! You’ll be imprisoned and executed!”

Sophia could barely hear him over the rush, the song sweet in her ears, the whispers that sang of need and sacrifice… Once the bone on his forearms became exposed, the muscles liquefied, Sophia was properly horrified, and _aware_ , and attempted to stop. She took a step back, pulled her hands behind her back, but the process continued. Sophia watched with abhorrence as the young man she had spoken to and eaten with for the last month and a half- the young man who was mostly naked, that had just attempted to sexual assault her- became nothing more than a pile of gooey organs and bones as her body drew in the last of his connection to the Fade.

Sophia stood in shocked silence for several minutes, staring at the torn flesh, before she collapsed onto her knees and hugged herself in desperation.

She had just killed a man. She had never done that before. All of practice sessions had result in potentially severe injuries, but nothing more than that. She was a murderer.

She was used. And dirty. Unclean. Filthy. _Contaminated_. The blood from her neck wound forming red currents around the bruises at her breasts and torso…

She hugged her knees closer, barely noticing as the desperate gasping cries that rebounded off the walls, coming from _her mouth_ , turned into screaming sobs that tore into her body. There was a rattling at the door and the sound of a key turning, but Sophia barely noticed the elf that poked her head into the room, gasped loudly, and then bolted.

Claus was the first to find her after that. Although at the time, she wasn’t coherent enough to be grateful. To his credit, he took in the scene with minimal blanching, before rushing over to her and applying pressure and some kind of cloth to the wound on her neck. He didn’t ask any questions, helping her right her pants and right her tunic in silence, before he covered her with a blanket. 

She was soon bundled up and taken discretely to her room. She sat on her bed and barely registered Claus leaving and Kathari coming in. The elf, usually quiet and aloof, actually sat next to her and clutched her hand. Sophia didn’t realize she was trembling until she looked down at Kathari’s hand and saw how still it was compared to her own. Her skin was still too tight, her muscles somehow tense _and_ shaking, and Sophia forced herself to take deep breaths. 

They sat together for at least fifteen minutes before Kathari broke the silence for the first time in their acquaintance. “Are you okay?”

Sophia looked at the elf providing comfort and clenched her hand. “I feel… disgusting.”

The elf nodded. She frowned, looking down at her extended stomach. It was several more minutes before she continued. “I… know how you feel.” The way Kathari said that, will holding onto her belly defensively, was enough to make Sophia suspicious. She looked down at the pregnant belly frowning, but didn’t know how to ask.

“Were you…”

“That man… had just been elevated from servitude. Master thought he had talent. It was the first time I had been… used like that in this household. Most prefer young men. When they decide to fuck a slave.”

Sophia didn’t know what to say to that.

Another minute and Kathari continued, looking down into her lap. “I was with Claus at the time. I… didn’t want him to know. I felt like it was my fault. But he found out anyway. Claus went after him, and was lashed in response. Scarred and put on display. As an example of what happens to an elf that dares.”

Sophia swallowed hard, hearing the bitterness and sorrow in Kathari’s voice. “Dares?”

Kathari met her eyes and spoke, somehow sounding both impassioned and jaded. “Dares to hope for respect. Dares to dream of freedom. Dares to stand up and attempt to protect their friends and family.”

Sophia swallowed hard, turning her palm so she could squeeze the elf’s hand. “And the baby’s father?”

Kathari pursed her lips, her eyes deadening. “I’m not sure. That’s why I can’t face Claus as I am. Not until I know. I… have no confidence. And he deserves so much better.”

Sophia frowned. “I’m sure that’s not true.”

The elf looked distressed. “It is. If I was braver, if I was _stronger_ , I could confront him. Admit that I love him. Beg him to forgive me. But… what if I am carrying that _shem’s_ baby? I could never hope for his forgiveness if that was the case.”

Another minute of silence. Kathari crossed her arms over her stomach. “I have thought about getting rid of it. But there is a chance that it could be his. And I could never. Not Claus’ baby.”

Sophia squeezed her hand again. “How will you know?”

Kathari gave her a sardonic smile. “It will look like an elf. In any case, I just… wanted to thank you. For killing that man. He was not gentle. He seemed to enjoy… struggling. I hope you are not feeling guilty for his death.”

Sophia frowned. “It’s difficult to say. I have never killed anyone before. And in such a manner….”

The elf nodded. “It will get easier. I can promise you that much.”

Sophia didn’t know how to feel about that. And the fact that she would be expected to kill more people… Something must have shown on her face because Kathari squeezed her hand. “I… am thankful for what you have been able to do so far. I have never eaten so much in my life.”

Sophia let out a choked sob. That did not make her feel better at all. It reminded her of how thin all of the elves appeared, in an unhealthy way that went behind the natural litheness inherent to their genes. Their subjugation was… life seemed so unfair, and Sophia hated herself for her own pain, and her own pity. Surely this experience, in which he hadn’t even actually raped her, was nothing compared to Kathari’s circumstances? Compared to that poor beaten and starved elven child she had seen put on display? It was sickening. The whole world was sickening.

The sobs grew louder, and Sophia felt an arm curl around her shoulder. She turned and saw Kathari looking solemn, and despondent, and lost… She returned the hug and cried into her neck, any hesitance over touch or the sensitivity of her scars overridden by her desperate wish for comfort. It was only a few moments before Sophia realized she could feel Kathari’s tears stream silently over her neck and shoulder, warm and wet as blood.

It was several minutes before Sophia quieted and the two broke apart. Claus came into the room shortly after and gave the two red-eyed women an intense look. He came up to where their hands were still clutched together, and grabbed them both with a large hand of his own. He stared into Kathari’s eyes for an intense minute as they seemed to attempt nonverbal communication. He seemed to nod, before leaning forward and giving the elven women a kiss on her brow. 

When he pulled back, Sophia could see Kathari was crying again. “Claus…”

He shook his head. “I will always love you, Kath. I’ll wait for you to be ready.” She made the sound of a tortured animal, and Sophia could not resist pulling Kathari into her side so her head was resting against her shoulder. Claus turned to look at Sophia, his expression grim.

“We have heard the rumors…”

Sophia felt desperate. What if they were to turn on her too? “I swear I didn’t mean for any of this to happen. I just like talking to people. I like people, I do, even though some of them are horrid…” More tears.

He shook his head again. “You didn’t wait for me to finish. We know about the Magister’s actions in adopting you. That isn’t very surprising, considering how difficult it would be for him to make his claim otherwise. He would have to marry you, but after your interactions last night, no one would believe it wasn’t coerced.”

The hand clutching their fingers grew tense. “I mean… we have heard the rumors of a hunting party started by the sons and daughters of the Magisterium.”

Kathari stiffened by her side, and Sophia felt a sense of foreboding. “A hunting party?” She asked for clarification, despite the dread filling her stomach.

“A chance for the young men and women of the Magisterium, or their children, to camp out and hunt exotic beasts together- usually wyverns and phoenixes. During the hunt, it isn’t… unusual for an elf or two to go missing. Dying in some strange manner. However, we heard word that they were traveling towards the border of the Free Marches, where there has been word of Dalish clans. We think they intend to hunt the ‘free’ elves exclusively in order to staunch the rebellions.”

Oh god. They hunted people. Sophia was sure the horror she was feeling inside was displayed on her face as Claus grasped their hands again. She asked a question, hoping beyond hope that it was true, “But you have a plan?”

Claus gave her a grim nod. “We do. We were hoping you could help us interfere.”

Sophia blinked. “Me?”

The elven man gave her a leveled look. “The… _Magister_ recently declared you his legal kin. On a social standpoint, that puts you level to the people participating in the hunt. You should be able to join them, with a few… elven servants and slaves at your side.”

Sophia blinked.

“If the purpose of this hunt really is to subdue the slaves, their work will need witnesses. And we will need people if we hope to warn the clans before they attack.”

Sophia felt the gears in brain finally begin to turn, shoving her trauma under some mental rug so she could deal with the problem at hand. “You said we were going to the border? Then wouldn’t this hunt actually take place in the Free Marches? So wouldn’t it be illegal?”

Claus snarled. “As far as I know, there is no law that prohibits shems from killing elves in any country in Thedas with any punishment greater than a slap on the wrist. Besides, you’ve probably read about how decentralized the region is. It would be difficult for the city-states to enforce anything, even if they cared. But I doubt they would unless the Magisters were leading an army.”

Sophia grimaced. “We will need allies.”

Claus nodded. “We were hoping you could help with that too. That… Altus you spent time with yesterday. And his friend. Do you think they would help us?”

Oh my. What a loaded question. She looked down at her torn, bloody tunic as she thought. Did she think that she knew two young men she had just met the night previous well enough to know if they would help work against the agenda of their nation? Of course not. And they were so entrenched in the system; indoctrinated to believe that slavery was acceptable, and that elves were somehow lesser… But they needed people, and based on the political arguments Dorian made yesterday, she could tell the Altus cared.

She met Claus’ eyes. “Maybe. I will find out.”

He nodded. “Please do. The trip will take place three weeks from now. You will need to act quickly.”

Sophia nodded, but then… “And… Julius?” Her skin felt oddly stretched as she thought about it, and she doubted her eyes could get any wider as she attempted to control her mouth.

Claus’ face contorted into one of deep hatred. “Don’t worry about that. It was easy enough to make it look like a botched blood magic experiment. Believable too, considering the man was turned inside out.” His eyes were fierce when they met hers. “Thank you. It looked like he suffered.”

Sophia could only nod, feeling… hollow. Although she recognized the position she was in. “Thank you for covering for me. I know I am in your debt.”

The man shook his head in dismissal. “One you intend to claim. Kath can help you bath and dress. If you want to talk to the Altus, it will need to be soon. I heard he had a late morning, but that he intends to leave soon. He knows he is not a favorite of the Magister.”

-

Before Sophia knew it, she was dressed (in an actual _dress_ , for once), her hair brushed (left down to cover the bruises around her neck), and she was headed to the library. Whereas before she had taken to swinging her arms gaily, smiling at the spiraling dust illuminated in the ramparts… Now she kept her arms to her side, looking solemn and taking dainty little steps in her new slippers. She felt… dissociated from the whole thing. As if the memory of this morning had been a dream, but then she looked down at her dress, and feel so _strange_ …. Had she ever been dressed in something so feminine? It almost felt like she was still dreaming

She was met by Magister Naevius at the library entrance, who took in her appearance with a broad smile. “Lucilla! You look darling. Fit for a lady. Come join me, several of us were just having a discussion about Orlesian politics…”

Attempting to look around surreptitiously as she followed the Magister, Sophia could not immediately spot Dorian. Then they stopped in front of a small group, and there he was, fingering his mustache and looking all kinds of hungover. Felix sat next to him, smiling happily and looking fresh as a daisy. Sophia could hear the Altus grumbling from here.

Felix was the first of the group to notice her, and he shot upright in his chair. “Ma dame! Bonjour!” _My lady! Good morning!_

Dorian sounded sarcastic and testy. “Ah, there you are. _Finally_. Although I have to wonder about your night if you are getting up at nearly noon.”

Sophia didn’t hesitate to respond, barely thinking. “I’ve been up since dawn, but I had things to do. Unlike a certain Altus that seems to spend his day drinking, sleeping, and cavorting around in public places.”

“Ha! I see the kitten’s got claws.”

Sophia gave him a hard look, and sat down next to Felix. “Felix! Bonjour! I trust you slept well?”

“Sweetly, ma chérie. After all, I had the thought of you to fall asleep to.”

Sophia couldn’t stop from blushing, even as she thought how ridiculously _cliché_ he was being… something Dorian didn’t hesitate to point out. “Felix, did you have cheese for breakfast by chance?”

Felix snorted. “Just because I don’t express affection through caustic insults doesn’t mean my words are worth any less than yours.”

Magister Naevius drew attention back to himself by clearing his throat. “Right. Well, before your arrival, we were discussing the fate of the Circle of Magi in Orlais. We heard about what happened at Kirkwall, of course, and know that the mage’s position is incredibly unstable at the moment. But we also know that the Empress and the Grand Duke are desperate for resources. Do you think the Circle of Magi will intercede with the Civil War?”

Sophia looked at the Magister in interest. “You mean will they attempt to use their assistance as a bargaining tool in order to elevate their position in the country? I don’t see why not. Although that could have its own consequences. And involves assuming the Circle of Magi will continue to stand. Wasn’t the College of Enchanters recently dissolved?”

Her other library sparring partner, Magister Visellius, responded looking grim. “We hadn’t considered that the Circles would dissolve completely. What would become of the mages, or the Templars? That… would certainly bode ill.”

Sophia frowned. “For everyone, more than likely. If this conflict eliminates the checks on their power, it will more likely be unleashed on the countryside. And they will have their own cause, their own vendetta to blind them. They may lose perspective and hurt innocent people. How connected are the chantries between Ferelden and Orlais?”

Felix answered from beside her, frowning. “It’s the same chantry, just operating in different places. The Divine Justina V is currently the head of the chantry and all of the Circles outside of the Imperium. And the explosion that occurred in Kirkwall has sparked an uprising in Orlais, but the true consequences to that event are still yet to be seen.”

“Does anyone know what the Divine is currently doing about this?”

No one answered, but this silence was soon broken by a man Sophia was not familiar with. He had rather unremarkable features, although his haircut was… eccentric. Was that a pompadour? “Why must we engage in all of this speculation about Orlais, when we should be talking about our own country? Or are we all to ignore what recently took place at Ath Velanis? This could be the start of an alliance between Ferelden and the Qunari against the Imperium!”

Dorian scoffed. “They marched forces against Aurelian Titus in _Seheron_. In what looked to be a _personal_ vendetta due to the man’s treatment of King Maric. That does not necessarily mean _war_.”

“Why do you think it will end there?” The man glared at Dorian.

Who responded by raising a brow. “Because Ferelden is hardly in a position to start a war? As I understand it, they are still attempting to recover from the Blight ten years ago. You know, the one that murdered their king, destroyed countless villages, and spread rampant disease?”

The man sneered. “You underestimate their strength.”

Dorian rolled his eyes, and stated sarcastically, “I’m sure.”

Magister Naevius once again interceded. This time by completely changing the subject, and Sophia couldn’t have been more grateful of the subject choice. “So, I hear there is to be a hunt?”

Half the men in the small circle leaned forward in interest. “Really?” the unknown man with the strange hairdo asked in anticipation. “Do you know where?”

The Magister smiled. “There are apparently a group of Phoenixes on the border of the Silent Plains, near the border to the Free Marches.”

“Only Phoenixes?” 

Another man snorted. “And the fact that it is nearby that town… Hasmal… is just a coincidence?”

The man with the pompadour smirked. “I see. Excellent.”

The Magister smiled at all of them. “Who is planning to attend?”

Several voices called out almost immediately, and a few more a moment later. Dorian and Felix were both noticeably silent.

Sophia spoke up hesitantly. “I had actually been considering it.” She almost winced at the reception to that statement. The Magister’s eyebrows shot to his hairline, Dorian shot her look of confused distaste, and Felix… he looked so disappointed in her. It hurt more than she thought it would.

“But my dear… why?”

“I’ve never been outside Minrathous. And I doubt I would be allowed to in any other circumstance.” Sophia made a production to pout, as she assumed she was supposed to.

Magister Naevius nodded. “Of course. You are young. You simply want to travel.”

The young man with the pompadour give her a suspicious side look. 

Dorian’s eyes narrowed as he quipped, “Of _course_. Simply to _travel_.”

They continued to make speculations about international politics and idle gossip for another hour, before the group dispersed. Dorian wasted no time leading her into a quiet corner, Felix following. He lightly pushed her behind one of the shelves and noticed her flinch. Frowning, he went and stood directly in front of her and began scanning her body in a clinical manner. It did not take him long to locate the bruises. He gently pulled her hair away from her neck, and she knew he could see the purple finger marks wrapped around her neck.

“Was this one of the things you had to do this morning?” He sounded angry.

“Dorian,” Felix warned, coming around his other side to see the bruises more closely.

Dorian frowned and ignored his friend. “Am I to assume there are more under your clothing?” Sophia didn’t answer, but she could feel a few tears betraying her. Damn.

Dorian agreed. “Kaffas,” he swore, before gently letting go of her hair. He started pacing up and down the aisle, obviously upset. 

Felix smiled at her, a small, sad smile. “Forgive him. Dorian rather likes you, so he is feeling defensive.”

Sophia felt more than a little helpless. “I only met him yesterday?”

Dorian interceded. “Yes, and what an illuminating twenty-four hours it has been.”

He paced a couple more times, before stating, “I couldn’t help but notice that a certain auburn-headed man wasn’t following you about. Coincidence?”

Sophia paled. She could actually feel all of the blood leave her face. Her fists tightened. Did he know? What… what would he do with that information?

“So it was him? Do you need Felix and me to break his fingers?”

Sophia stared. So they didn’t know he was dead?

Dorian and Felix noticed her reaction. She supposed she probably looked scared shit out of her mind. “He… does he still have fingers?” Sophia remembered those very fingers burst into a spray of red blood, sinew, and tissue, and started to shake. And here she had been doing so well, _not remembering_ …

A touch, and she looked up into Felix’s incredibly empathetic face… and then his arms were around her, and she felt… together. Not quite safe, not quite whole, but present. And now that she was getting used to the sensitivity of her skin, his presence felt… nice. The man sighed into her neck as Sophia tried to stop quaking. She concentrated on Dorian’s pacing, and whispered, “It was an accident. He cut my throat, and he was trying to r-rape me, and I… I d-didn’t mean to.” Felix squeezed tighter.

Dorian was suddenly there in front of her, looking upset and morose, patting her hair. “Oh, kitten.” 

There was a couple of minutes of silent comfort, before Sophia pushed back against Felix’s chest. The man let go, and even Sophia could see the difference in his appearance. That glossy look in his eyes was gone, and his skin had a shade more color. Why? What was this? 

Before she could ask, Dorian seemed to recall his other line of inquiry. “Oh, yes. You do know what happens on these ‘hunting trips’, do you not? Why would you want to go?”

Sophia’s look hardened. “I need to protect them.” Dorian looked like he was waiting for her to elaborate, but she chose not to. She liked Dorian and Felix a great deal, but this morning had made it clear that she needs to reevaluate her propensity to trust.

But Dorian was a smart man, and didn’t need a lot of prompting. “I see. And you think you can just waltz in to protect these… people, and expect the rest of the hunting party to turn a blind eye?”

At Sophia’s silence, Dorian swore again, before stating, “It seems your demise is a little more imminent than even I had anticipated. Fine. I will attend and try to stop you from dying.”

Felix looked at him with a raised brow.

“Don’t look at me like that, Felix. You were right, I like the girl. And Maker knows my father will be overjoyed to hear to news.” He stated this last bit sardonically, as if he didn’t care one way or another.

Felix looked at the both of them, considering. “Perhaps I can attend as well.”

Dorian frowned. “There is no way your father would agree to such a thing.”

Felix’s eyes narrowed, and his tone darkened. “She makes me feel better, Dorian. I’m sure I could find a way to persuade him. Besides, the time I have remaining should be mine to do with what I want. He needs to let me live, otherwise I might as well already be dead.”

Sophia asked because she had to. “Are you sick, Felix?”

Felix turned to her with a self-deprecating smile. “The blight sickness. Although the healers suspect it will take at least another year before I succumb.”

“And I… make you feel better?”

Felix nodded.

Dorian interrupted with more sarcasm. “Well, we will apparently have more time to think about it as we journey across the Imperium on horseback, in the company of our lovely, but reprehensibly sadistic peers. Nothing like a good holiday.”

“On horseback?” Sophia was alarmed. She couldn’t remember ever having ridden a horse.

Dorian laughed at her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to those of you who have left a kudos or a comment. Please let me know what you think.


	7. The Hunt: Part I

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The first day of traveling, full of Dorian quips.

“Remember it all, every insult, every tear. Tattoo it on the inside of your mind. In life, knowledge of poisons is essential. I've told you, nobody becomes an artist unless they have to.” ― Janet Fitch

**Chapter 7: The Hunt Part 1**

In the weeks leading up to the hunt, Sophia waited for a confrontation that never came. Every time she saw Danarius, she expected him to say or do something to demonstrate that anger he apparently felt towards their situation, but if anything he was more accommodating. She expressed interest to him in participating in this hunt as soon as she was able, and he was actually rather delighted about it. Apparently, now that he was forced to embrace the reality of their relation, he intended to use it as far as he could, and was rather looking forward to the possible connections she could make that he could cash in on later.

He did not seem very concerned about her safety, and the possibility that she might not return.

He gave her a grim smile as he elaborated. “These hunts have been going on since I was a young man. You will be chaperoned and well-protected. There is no way the other Magisters would let their children participate otherwise.”

Chaperone?

Likewise, he seemed unconcerned about letting a few elven servants leave with her while she participated. Sophia had noticed that her wardrobe seemed to become more extravagant as the weeks went on, and had to wonder if this acquiescence was a show of wealth, or if Claus was right about the Magisterium wanting witnesses.

Her interactions with Ash were also rather surprising. Sophia had seen the elf less often after she declared Kathari her official servant, and had considered that the elf was upset at the appointment. However, aside from a fretted comment to her about the bruises around her neck (which Sophia neglected to tell her the source of), Ash seemed to ignore that she had been injured altogether. Which, according to Sophia’s newly jaded state of mind, seemed rather odd and suspicious.

The other elves behaved strangely around Ash as well. They seemed to give her a wide berth whenever they were together in the kitchen, and when Sophia asked them about her friend, they kept mum. Still, Sophia was reluctant to disabuse her in anyway without more evidence, and enjoying the elf’s wit and charm, Sophia made it a point to visit her at least once a day. 

Still, she was very busy. Her days leading up to the hunt were spent learning how to ride a horse, learning how to perform combat techniques while on top of said horse without scaring the poor thing into bucking her off, learning the basics of archery (swordsmanship was so much easier), the occasional spar with guards and/or curious visiting combatants, occasional conversations with Ash, more than occasional conversations with Kathari, Claus, and their friend Belen as they attempted to formulate plans for the hunt, occasional conversations with more of the Magister's contemporaries in the library (although now that the holiday period was over, there were far fewer individuals available to speak with), reading whatever book caught her fancy, and writing letters.

Sophia loved her letters. As promised, she was soon in correspondence with Maevaris Tilani, Lucius Privernas (now that he was away, traveling on business), Magister Nanterius, Magister Naevius (after he had returned home to Vyrantium), Dorian, and Felix, who were all very accommodating and interesting to write to. She also received some unexpected letters; Gereon Alexius and Halward Pavus, oddly enough, although it was only one letter a piece- appreciation towards integrating Dorian into the herd, as it were, and a request to visit the Alexius manor after the hunt. She also received several letters from Leviculix Porenni, which Sophia thought was rather strange considering their only interaction. 

His first letter illustrated that the man was a Tevinter national extremist, a devout member of the Imperial Chantry, and that he had been rather intrigued by their hypothetical thought exercise. He also seemed to decide that, as she was the very example of Tevinter ingenuity and magical possibility (and considering her recent jump in social standing), she was worthy of his attention. Which he decided to focus on attempting to convert her towards the Imperial Chantry. 

So far he had been unsuccessful, but she had learned far more about the religion than she would have otherwise.

He also signed his letters as Leviculix Porenni II, so she assumed he was named after someone in his family with the same name, important enough for demonstrate that distinction. Sophia was curious as to who it was, but a perfunctory search in the library gave her no immediate results. 

This routine continued until the day before she was due to leave, which required a lot of packing. It was at that time, while Sophia was stuffing a travel bag in her room, that she heard a knock on her door. She was quick to open it, and admitted an anxious-looking Ash. 

It seemed the elf was interested in getting to the straight and narrow. She wasted no time sitting down with Sophia on her bed, and bracing the woman’s forearms. Sophia halfway suspected that she might confess to being in the Magister’s pocket; it made the most sense out of everything she had considered.

Instead Ash opened with, “How much of the manor have you explored?”

Sophia felt surprised. And then confused. “Not much, I’m afraid.” She didn’t feel comfortable exploring. Despite feeling some pieces of control and belonging (this was _her_ bed, these were _her_ clothes), this did not feel like her home. And she didn’t feel comfortable exploring in a house that was not hers.

The elf nodded slowly, before grabbing Sophia’s hand and jumping up from the bed. 

“I have something I need to show you,” Ash explained, but Sophia pulled back remembering the last time she had decided to follow someone alone. Ash’s face fell, and Sophia had the foresight to realize that this meeting would be one of those turning points in a person’s relationship; the one which dictated their future, in which she could either embrace whatever new danger might be headed her way and gain the elf’s trust, or pull back and lose any potential towards a real friendship.

Still, Sophia was wary. “Where to?” she asked.

Ash shook her head. “I can’t talk about it. But I can show you.”

Shit… It turns out she was one of those people who had a difficult time mistrusting people she liked. “Alright, fine. Show me.”

Ash gave her an intense look, squeezed her hand, and then led her out of the room. The elf directed her out of the wing of bedrooms and into a hallway that she had never been down before. Down a flight of stairs, a few rights, and then after that… Sophia lost track. They had spent several minutes going down several levels, traveling through obviously discrete passageways, before they came to a door. Ash stopped in front of the door and turned to Sophia. “We need to hurry. They are changing the guard right now, but they will be here soon.”

Then she took out a key and opened the door. 

What she saw was… Sophia didn’t have words. She was too aghast. She completely missed Ash close the door and lock it behind her.

There were cells of people of all different races and gender, but they all had one thing in common; they glowed an unnatural red. Some only noticeable in the whites of their eyes. Others had what looked like red electric shocks traveling up and down their limbs and torso. The worst off had actual red crystal protruding from some part of their body. She couldn’t decide which… _stage_ was worse (as it did seem to be a progression). The ones with electric shocks had clearly reached some point of psychosis, and/or were experiencing intense hallucinations, as they spent the time in their cells attacking the air, screaming at their walls, or engaged in some manner of self-abuse. But the ones with red crystals had an unnatural stillness about them that spoke of death, or _absence_ of mind that was incredibly creepy. And their bodies hummed a frequency that put her on edge.

Further down, there was a larger chamber that contained tables with bindings attached, manacles that hung from the ceiling, as well as an assortment of pointy instruments, dried, rusty blood clinging to the blades.

Sophia recalled multiple people telling her over the past few weeks that she shouldn’t be alive, that she shouldn’t be sane, but she could have never conceived of _this_. Is this what was supposed to happen?

Still… God, all these people. “How did they come to be here?” Sophia couldn’t stop herself from asking.

Ash looked uncomfortable. “Here in this part of the house? Because it is far away from everyone else. Here in general? I know some are researchers that suffered after botched attempts to synthesize the raw red lyrium into a processed form. A couple are former slaves that volunteered for the experiment in exchange for a boon with Danarius. Still others just seem to appear here, probably bought at the slave trade, and then are systematically exposed in a series of experiments.”

Lord have mercy… “How do you fit in with all of this?”

More signs of discomfort. Her arms wrapped defensively around her waist, shifting anxiously from foot to foot. “They put me in charge of care and clean-up. Apparently I have some kind of immunity; not enough to be considered a worthy subject, but enough to be capable of tending to them while they are still alive, as well as… after.”

Sophia looked into Ash’s eyes, upset. “How could you just…?”

Ash turned defensive. “How could I just accept what I am told and not try to do more? The same way you accept the treatment of elves. The same way you do everything Danarius tells you. I know you saw Fenlhen, the little boy they beat, starved, and put up on exhibition. Why did you not try to free him? Why did you not question Danarius, and tell him that you didn’t want to face a demon?”

God, Sophia felt ashamed. Ash was right. She had thought that the small things she was doing for the elves in the kitchen was something, but in reality, it just made her feel less guilty about not doing more. She wasn’t _really_ doing anything to help.

Ash’s tone softened. “I… volunteered for this position, actually. I was very good friends with Leto when he decided to accept that challenge, and… I wanted to be there for him, to help him. During and after. At the time, this place was not so bad. Red lyrium is so much worse than regular lyrium, but I had already created a niche for myself. One that was difficult to get myself out of, especially after they discovered my immunity.”

Sophia was surprised. She had so many questions… “Why show me this, now? Why show me this at all?”

“You need to know. You need to understand the implications when the Magisters attempt to talk to you about this, flippantly referring to the death and misery of many. You need to understand what they are capable of before you decided to go gallivanting around the countryside with their spawn. And… I wanted you to know why the other elves don’t care for me. They did, at one time. Agatha was like my mother. But they think I sold myself to the Magister. That I am actually helping him torture people.”

Ash took a few paces and looked in Sophia’s eyes, looking solemn. “I know you are suspicious. Perfectly natural, considering the many ways everyone in this house is trying to manipulate you. I wanted you to know that I am not one of those people.”

Sophia could feel tears unbidden pool at the corner of her eyes, reacting to the truth of that statement and the stress of everything that just seemed to… fall on her at that moment. Her mouth pursed in an attempt to stem the tears, and then Sophia addressed a suspicion she had. “How do you know Elven as well as you do? All of the other elves can barely speak it.”

Another uncomfortable shifting of feet. “That is actually why Danarius bought me. A merchant in the slave trade, Thibault Desmarais, made a name for himself by producing educated, literate, and talented slaves. He was quick to realize that many experiments attempted by the Magisters involved some manner of translation of ancient texts that were used as a reference for esoteric magical theory. The Elven language has been maintained in the Imperium, discretely, for just that purpose. Desmarais located a tutor, and taught those of us with an aptitude.”

Ash looked at Sophia with a befuddled expression. “You have no idea how surprised I was to hear Elven coming out of your mouth during the experiment, and after. Who you were before is a great mystery.”

Sophia nodded, curious as well. She had been told before that she presented a lot of contradictions; the good health (demonstrated in her shiny hair and white teeth) and education of a noble, but the habits of a commoner. Strange.

“So do you still translate things for him?” Or had she become completely removed from that position?

“I do. It was why I was purchased, after all. But the time I don’t spend looking over texts, eating, sleeping, or talking to you, I spend in here.”

Sophia had one more pressing question, something that had been bothering her for over a month. But she had been afraid to ask, somehow convinced that his fate was connected to hers in some way. “What happened to Leto?” 

Ash’s face changed. Eyes became shuddered, mouth turned down in misery. “He lost all of his memories as a result of the experiment, much like you. Couldn’t remember his friends or his family. He was renamed Fenris, and started to follow the Magister’s whim like a puppet. And then, out of nowhere, he… left. Ran away as an escaped slave. I have heard stories that he joined with the Hero of Kirkwall at some point. I know Danarius had planned a scheme to entrap him in Kirkwall using his sister, but he caught… _ill_ just before he was due to leave. By the time he recovered, Fenris had left the city.”

Sophia hummed, considering. “And now?”

Ash let out a huff. “Now? The Maker only knows. I heard rumors that he is currently somewhere around Hasmal, helping other escaped slaves.”

And then Ash’s eyes were imploring. “I heard the hunting trip is going to happen in that area. Will you take me with? Please? I fear that this trip is going to target the town, and if there is anything I can do to warn him off…” The elf’s eyes were glassy.

Sophia nodded, but her response was interrupted by a pounding at the door. And a gruff voice, “Why is it locked? Where is that damned knife-ear? I swear she does this on purpose…”

Both women shook themselves free of emotion. Ash was quick to jump to her feet, grabbing a basket and shoving bloody linen and clothes into it. “I’m right here, you lumbering piece of metal. Just give me a second,” Ash called. She pulled Sophia behind her. “Get ready to run,” she whispered, before she opened the door and _accidentally_ tripped, sending bloody linen all over the two guards. Sophia bolted while their faces were covered.

“You fucking rabbit! I know you did that on purpose!”

“It’s not my fault your damn feet are so big I practically have to jump over them!”

It took Sophia only a minute to realize she had no idea where she was going. Shit.

-

The morning of the hunt, Sophia woke up gasping. The voices were more intense than usual, desperate screams that demanded “ **Free us!** ”, interspersed with images of those poor people in the cages, completely eaten up by the crystals, their fingers and noses and hair consumed by the ground… The vibrations ringing greed…

Sophia practically threw herself in the bath that morning, the temperature of the water scalding. She took deep breaths, submitting to Kathari without the usual fuss (because she could wash her own hair, goddammit…). Kathari seemed greatly concerned by this, seemed to attribute this to nerves over the hunt, and attempted to comfort her by brushing her hair. 

Sophia was a sucker for that, and managed to actually relax.

In no time at all, Sophia was leading her horse to the edge of the estate, six elves in attendance (Kathari, Claus, Belen, Ash, and two slaves trained as guards named Cai and Anthony). This was followed by two human guards that she had trained with before, named Adrian and Marius. Wearing what might as well be an armored dress, an enchanted sword sheathed at her side, and with eight attendants, Sophia felt like some kind of warrior princess.

Danarius was present to send them off. He grasped her shoulders, gave her that intense almost angry look he seemed to think communicated expectation, and said, “Have a good trip, _granddaughter_. Return safely.”

Mounting their horses, the party quickly met with Dorian outside of the estate, who had come to collect them. He looked rather stately, dressed to the nines and on top of a dark brown stallion. He gave the size of the group a raised brow. “I see he’s decided to take this granddaughter business seriously, then.”

Sophia just blinked, feeling tired. “Good morning to you too, Dorian.” She looked around, but there was no one aside from two men in horseback behind the Altus, wearing the Pavus family crest. “Is Felix not coming?”

Dorian chuckled nervously. “Ah. Well not officially, no.” He gestured for her to follow, and a few blocks down a hooded figure on a black stallion joined them. The man drew his hood back far enough for Sophia to recognize Felix, and then the man wasted no time sending her a saucy wink.

Sophia snorted and smiled at the young man, pulling her mount up beside Dorian. “Would I be wrong to assume that he didn’t receive his father’s permission?”

Dorian huffed in fond exasperation. “Not at all. He decided to stow-away, against my advice. The man enjoys inviting trouble.”

Sophia raised a brow. “Against your advice?”

Dorian looked her in the eye, suddenly serious. “Gereon is more than a little attached to his son. And not very happy with me, at the moment. There will be repercussions.”

Sophia pretended to gasp. “You, Dorian? A man that practically oozes charm and affability? What in the world could you have done to offend him?”

Dorian snorted. “Cute, kitten. Very cute. Let’s just say I turned down a proposal to work on something with him because I am wary of the consequences. And he doesn’t seem to be able to see that, as desperate as he is to save his son.”

Felix pulled his horse up beside them, and Dorian smiled at him. Felix smiled back. “Talking about me?”

“I’m considering what Gereon will do to me once he finds out I helped you escape the estate. Flogging? Lynching? Or perhaps he will have an apprentice turn me into a newt and call it a day.”

Felix grinned and turned towards Sophia. “Cheerful, isn’t he? Dorian has always been the shining example of a morning person.”

Dorian groaned. “Blatant lies, my dear. Believe nothing that comes out of his mouth.”

Sophia interjected with a small subject change. “On the topic of fathers, I suppose I should mention that I have been in correspondence with both of yours.”

Felix narrowed his eyes in concern, but said nothing. Dorian stiffened dramatically, his frown was fierce. “My father sent you a letter?”

Sophia could immediately sense that there were a lot of somethings she didn’t know about in regards to their relationship. “Halward Pavus? Yes, a couple of weeks ago.”

His mustache twitched. “I don’t suppose you would be willing to tell me the contents?”

“He thanked me. For bringing you ‘back into the fold’. I assume he was acting appreciative of my involvement in instigating your participation on this… hunt.”

Dorian snarled. “Ha! As if accompanying you is doing anything of the sort. Once again he assumes to know me, and what is best for me, without bothering to ask anyone any questions.”

Sophia felt concerned. Bad somethings then. Which she had unwittingly brought up. “I… apologize?”

Dorian glanced at her, surprised. “Why would you… no, it’s fine. I assume your response was noninformative, and just a tad sassy?”

Sophia nodded. Exactly that, actually. Seems he’s got her pegged.

Dorian smirked. “Good. Then he has no reason to come after me.”

The rest of their ride out of the capital was filled with quips, playful jabs, and small flirtations, before they came across a much larger group outside of the city gates. There must have been at least two hundred and fifty people. Once they noticed the small group approaching, the entire group began to move South en masse. It was mostly slow-going; everyone seemed preoccupied chatting with one another, which necessitated light trotting at most. At least Sophia didn't feel out of place; several other females had just as many attending, if not more.

Dorian did not look pleased to see them. In particular, one very pretty female who felt comfortable enough to bring her horse up beside them. “Livia,” he practically sneered.

“Dorian!” Her nose was small and her hair in perfect coils, lightly bouncing off her shoulders as the horse trotted, but her smile was sharp. “I had no idea you would be attending! You never have before.”

“Yes, well there is a first time for everything.”

“And Felix!” the woman’s eyes passed right over Sophia without a hint of acknowledgment, which Sophia thought was rather impressive. She knew how distracting the scars wrapped around her face appeared to others. “You have not been seen at parties since before you left to study at the University in Orlais! How did you find the city? I hear such odd things about Val Royeaux.” 

Felix was perfectly congenial. “Really? Do tell. Perhaps I can separate the fodder from the feed.”

The woman looked slightly surprised to be called out on what she knew, but recovered quickly. “You mean aside from the line of lovely cake shops that opened up there recently? They speak of a destabilizing Spiral. Of a Professor at the University who went mad, and decided to run off and study dragon mating habits in person.”

Felix smiled, appearing the perfect gentleman. “I can’t say anything about the Circle- I had little cause to visit, after all. But I can maintain that Professor Frederic of Serault is actually a Professor of Dragonology at the University, and is quite renowned in his area of study because he is willing to conduct research on the field.”

The woman’s smile got sharper, if possible, and made Sophia feel oddly defensive of Felix. The man had been perfectly pleasant to her- why does she feel the need to be so antagonistic? “And wouldn’t you agree that anyone who feels it necessary to study live dragons, in person, is a bit mad?”

And thus Sophia butted in. “Why? He demonstrates the wisdom of not accepting indoctrinated information blindly, and instead attempts to understand the world for what it really is. If that is what you consider mad, I pity the people you thought informed enough to be considered educators.”

Dorian grinned at her rebuttal. Livia noticed, and got defensive. “Or he is simply attempting to reinvent the wheel and using it to justify his… _unnatural_ interests, which is a waste of time and a strain on the University’s resources. Which you would know if you weren’t spending so much time trying to sound intelligent. ‘Question everything’ is an easy rhetoric to adopt, but unnecessarily cynical and rarely with actual solutions.”

Sophia felt her nose wrinkle in distaste. “So, of course, it is better to accept everything on faith and pretend that you already have all of the solutions. Because that is _surely_ the path towards innovation and positive change. I’m surprised that the many rebellions in the Capital have not raised your concern about the state of things. Unless you think rebellion is a _healthy_ sign in a community.”

The woman scoffed. “It is a natural one. In a society where some people are better off, there will always be those underneath that stew in resentment. And they attack because they do not have the means to improve their situation. Their actions are inherent in the system. It has nothing to do with the state of the community.”

“And you never considered that maybe it is the system that needs to change?”

The woman snarked, “Now you are grasping for straws.”

Sophia gave her a hard look. “Why? Because you see the Imperium as some immobile, immortal thing? Do you not have at your disposal the documented history of previous collapsed civilizations? Do you think the Imperium somehow immune to this? Acts of rebellion and revolution have brought down empires before.”

“What, you mean those savages? The elven civilization, if it could even be called that, fell because they were not as great as the Imperium. We were stronger and our magic was better. So, no, I do not believe we would be at risk for the same threat.”

“How lovely it must be to live in ignorance as you embrace the common delusions of the aristocracy. Talk to me in ten years. We will see if this still stands.”

Livia gave a disgusted little noise, and kicked at her horse. She trotted away.

“Who was that delightful… flower?” Sophia was still frustrated, so it came out rather sarcastically.

Dorian answered, sounding amused. “That was Livia Herathinos, my intended if my father was to have his way.”

Sophia was startled out of her anger. “Really? You poor thing.”

“I know, right? Maker knows we hate each other. I can’t imagine what the holidays would’ve been like.”

Sophia snorted, and then sent Felix an apologetic look. “I’m sorry Felix. That was unworthy of me. She just sounded so… arrogant, and I spoke up before I realized what I was doing.” She smiled in a self-deprecating manner. “I’m afraid I wouldn’t be very good at the Game.”

Felix sent her an easy smile. “Hardly a vice, ma chérie.”

Ash pulled up beside her, and Sophia was reminded of the fact that her entourage had just witnessed that loss of control. How embarrassing. The two men she was riding next to gave Ash a strange look as she asked, “Do you really think the Imperium will fall?”

Sophia bit her lip. “Not necessarily. Or perhaps not completely. But I do know that the more unstable the region- which, if the trouble in the South is any indication, there is instability coming- the more open it is to invasion or revolution.”

Ash tilted her head, considering. “And the elves?”

“Centuries of subjugation and genocide are tipping the balance. All the elves need is a leader, to help them organize and fight back.”

Dorian was curious. “You think revolution is so close at hand?”

Sophia looked at him, her mouth pursed in thought. “There have been numerous rebellions and attempted uprising throughout Thedas, especially in the last decade. I believe we are heading for a breaking point, yes. Either revolution or mass death.”

Everyone around Sophia seemed to frown in thought. Ash spoke, falling back on their habit of speaking Elven freely with one another, “Ma eolasa ehn min alin?" _You know who this person (is)?_

Sophia snorted. “Thu ar eolasa?” _How (would) I know?_

She turned to see Dorian looking at her suspiciously. He stated, sarcastically of course, “Tch. Of course you can speak an ancient language barely anyone knows a word of. Do you plot how best to surprise us? What’s next- we discover you shapeshift into a wolf and run into the woods during a full moon?”

Sophia may have been a tad smug. “Te sorprenderías si dijera que sí?” _Would you be surprised if I said yes?_

Dorian stared at her in surprise. “Antivan? And with barely an accent. I can’t help but be incredibly curious about your origins, kitten. Who were you before your introduction in the Imperium?”

Sophia shrugged. “No idea. Although I know you are not the only one who wonders.”

Dorian continued his train of thought, his right elbow resting on his left hand, and his right hand stroking his mustache. “Not that this is the only peculiarity, of course. We still need to investigate your reaction to the blight.”

Ash spoke up without hesitation. “She is immune.”

Dorian looked at the elf curiously. “You are rather bold, hm? But that is not what I meant.”

Sophia elaborated, speaking low so her voice wouldn’t carry. “Felix has the blight sickness. And touching me seems to make him feel better.” Dorian gave her a cautious, concerned look, before regarding the elf with wary apprehension. 

Ash nodded in understanding. “Well there is blight in red lyrium, isn’t there?”

Dorian’s eyes narrowed. “Is there?”

Ash shrugged. “I don’t know of any other reason why individuals in contact with red lyrium would contract symptoms of the blight.”

“And the interaction with Felix?”

“Well,” Ash began hesitantly, “what if some of the magic contained within red lyrium is actually from the blight? As in the blight inside the crystal is in itself inherently magical? That would mean that Sophia’s tendency to draw on the energy of the fade, this magic, causes her to absorb the blight into herself. And because she is immune to any detrimental effects, no ill has befallen her as a result?” 

Ash pursed her lips before continuing, “Although I suspect this is only effective with Felix because he is not a mage. Otherwise there would be a more accessible and more satisfying source of energy readily available, and her scars would attempt to steal that magic first.”

Dorian slowly nodded. “I suppose I can see why that would make sense. If the blight was inherently magical, it would explain why it is impossible to heal through magical means. Would either of you happen to know where your immunity comes from?”

Sophia looked at Dorian curiously. “You didn’t believe me when I hypothesized that it was due to my lack of connection to the Fade?”

Dorian’s eyes narrowed, and he thought aloud, “I believe you were speaking of your strange reaction to red lyrium… Oh, right. Because if there is blight in red lyrium, and it is that which enhances the crystal’s power and causes madness, then your immunity to the red lyrium would be come from the same source as your immunity to the Blight. Because it is essentially the same exposure. Fascinating.”

The group fell to silence. Sophia turned back to look at her attendants, and saw Claus and Kathari give each other intense looks. Hm. Belen was sharpening the point of his arrows with a piece of stone, looking rather intimidating. Kai and Anthony looked relaxed on top of their mounts, gazing around at the endless trees in boredom. Marius and Adrian sat rather stiffly in their armor- Sophia felt a rush of sympathy. They were probably rather hot. The temperature was uncomfortable for her, and she wasn’t wearing nearly as much metal. Perhaps she could convince everyone to camp next to a stream?

Just as Sophia became concerned about the lack of ground they were covering, someone at the head of the group sounded a horn, and everyone’s horses took off in a gallop. Fantastic. Hopefully it wouldn’t take more than a few days to reach the border.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, after writing everything that happens in the hunt, I realized I would need to break up the chapters... too long, even for me. Expect an update relatively soon. I hope this chapter doesn't seem too meandering... and my apologies if I butchered the Spanish language.
> 
> Thank you for all of the comments and kudos, you are all darlings.


	8. The Hunt: Part II

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sophia runs into the Dalish.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It turns out there will be little actually hunting during this hunt... The next part will be posted soon. Thank you all for your support. It encourages me to keep writing.
> 
> Disclaimer: Violence and death in this chapter. And more demon shenanigans.

“Knowing is not enough; we must apply. Willing is not enough; we must do.” ― Johann Wolfgang von Goethe

**Chapter 8: The Hunt Part II**

They had finally reached the border. Thank the heavens. Anything to break this consistency that was petty, two-faced, superficial conversations that did little to cover the obvious disdain and contempt held for her by the other members of the group. Felix and Dorian helped, of course. But she just didn’t have it within her ignore their barbs and pretend they were being perfectly pleasant for days on end.

As it were, Sophia spent much of the time on the way to their destination in the back with the servants and slaves. Belen and Claus were familiar with several elven slaves from other households- it seemed that they often traveled in groups on hunting trips on the outskirts of the city, together because of the danger posed by a persistent pack of wolves that preyed in the area. Ash found a couple of Thibault Desmarais’s people, and they were soon sharing tales, talking rapidly in a language Sophia thought might be Nevarran. Marius and Adrian found some other human guards, and they were soon making jokes and commiserating about the eccentricities of their masters.

They made a show of introducing Sophia, but the reception was mixed. Some of them had heard about her recent elevation in rank, and were distrustful and/or resentful of it. Others saw her scars and seemed to think she was victim to machinations outside of her control, and seemed to pity her. A few of them talked to her. It was nice.

For the most part she stayed with Kathari and Claus. Which was who she was riding beside when they caught sight of the border. There was a horn, and an announcement that the city was only a few hours away. Sophia rode towards the front of the group, intending to reach Dorian and Felix, when she was intercepted by Livia. The woman was followed by two young ladies, elegantly dressed in some kind of leather ensemble over their dress. They occupied their time fanning themselves with decorated fans.

“Ah, Sophia! I was just on my way to inform my servants. Apparently we are preparing to stop and give the horses a break before galloping to Hasmal. Some of us are even going into the forest to find a stream.”

To say Sophia was suspicious would be an understatement. “Livia. Thank you for informing me.” She did her best to sound gracious.

Livia just gave her that sharp smile, and trotted past.

Sophia looked around at the hunting party carefully. It did indeed look like they were stopping for a break; all of the mounts were at a standstill, and several young men in the front had dismounted their horses and seemed to be holding some kind of council. Others were spending the time drinking from water-skins, or snacking on apples. 

Sophia shrugged, and patted her pretty mare with affection. Maybe she could help find the stream. She dismounted and led her horse into the forest. Claus, Kathari, Ash, and Belen soon did the same and followed her into the trees. 

The forest was beautiful. The air smelled clean, the tree towered above them, offering a steady canopy in all but a few places, where the sunlight streamed down and illuminated the lively green. Sophia couldn’t stop from smiling, stepping over a fallen log. 

They had probably been walking for fifteen minutes when they found the stream. The water was clear, and burbled happily as it flowed past. The horses were quite gratified to be able to drink, jumping around in the water excitedly. Belen was having a conversation with Claus about some animal tracks they had found, debating on the size of the herd. Kathari had gotten a branch caught in her hair, and Sophia stopped to unbraid the light brown hair and disentangle the strands around the twigs, flicking stray leaves off with an annoyed scoff. She was in the process of re-braiding the elf’s hair, ignoring the small uncomfortable huffs Kathari kept making, when she heard the first scream. Everyone stilled, and so the second scream sounded louder by comparison.

Sophia took that extra second to finish the braid, tying the hair in a leather thong, before jumping into action. She quickly tied the horses reins to a nearby branch, and bounded off in the direction of the screams. She felt the elves follow her silently, Ash, Belen, and Claus carrying their bows, already notched with an arrow, in front of them defensively. Sophia unsheathed her sword, and they all moved around Kathari without speaking. The pregnant elf withdrew a pair of daggers, and was frowning fiercely.

As they got closer they were about to smell the scent of burning wood and… meat. Another minute, and they were able to see billows of black smoke escaping at the distance through the canopy in the trees. One more minute, and they were in a small clearing where a small structure and a couple of people were present.

It was… horrible. A small hut was on fire. A woman had thrown herself from the open door in front of the hut, still in flames, and she let out another scream that echoed off of the trees that lined the clearing. By the time Sophia and her party got to the scene, most of her body had already been covered in burns, an angry red and a burnt black, but she clawed forward in the space in front of her as if possessed. They watched in silence as an armored man, holding a torch and looking incriminating, came before the woman in a fervor. He dropped the torch and unsheathed his sword, which he used to neatly decapitate the woman’s head from her body. Sophia recognized the man’s armor- it was the same as that Southern Templar she faced over a month ago. 

As they walked into the clearing, the man turned in surprise and threw his hands up in defense. “You saw her, right? She had turned into an abomination. She needed to be dealt with.”

Sophia’s tone was harsh. “By setting her on fire?”

The man’s lips curled into a snarl. “What would you know of demons, _my lady?_ This kind of danger does not allow for mercy. If I hadn’t reacted as soon as I did, we would all be dead right now.” 

Sophia felt an answering scowl form on her lips. “She hardly looked a demon, _sir_.”

The man sneered. “She had run away from the Circle. She willingly gave up the security of the Templars and risked possession. Which was, unfortunately, her reality. I have been in attendance to plenty of Harrowings. I know what it looks like when a mage is becoming possessed by a demon. I reacted before it could take her body.”

Sophia was about to shout something back, feeling self-righteous- she couldn’t believe that anyone could justify burning someone alive- when she stopped and stared at the space behind the man. The woman’s body had continued to burn, and had become bone interspersed with ashes and deep red burnt tissue. Which was now rising and morphing into something else.

The man took her silence as a sign of surrender, and continued to speak. “This was the best thing for her, really. Otherwise she would have been forced to lose control of her body and watch as it performed horrible acts.”

Sophia watched with growing horror as the flesh twisted upwards, the woman’s arms and hands becoming unnaturally elongated and the skull, reattached to the flesh, pulled forward. The rest of the ash and burnt flesh formed muscles that pulled back from the skull, pushing the bone forward so it loomed and formed large scaled shoulders. And then the body rose up, but the flesh twisted to form a mouth that made up the thing’s torso. Teeth protruded from the large mouth, which opened menacingly. 

The man was staring at them in confusion. “What is it? Have you all really never seen someone die-” He was cut off as one elongated arm reached forward to grab the man around the waist from behind, and then yanked him backwards into the creature’s mouth. The man screamed in pain and terror, and attempted to swing his sword behind him in order to free himself. Sophia stood in shock and watched as the teeth clamped down on the man’s armor, hard enough the blood started to spill’s out of the man’s mouth.

Sophia shook herself out of her inaction and bounded towards the demon. There was an ugly part of herself that thought the man deserved such a fate, but she knew she was not the right person to make that decision. Who was she to decide who should live or die? Better to help and deal with the consequences of saving a shitty person.

However, just as she was about to reach the man, she saw another such creature emerge from inside the burning hut. Sophia concluded that there must have been another burnt body inside the structure. Ash whispered in horror from her side and gave a name to the horrible creatures, “Ash wraiths.”

Sophia face hardened, and she shot forward with her enchanted sword. The fire rune flared as the blade bit into the creature’s arm, which shot up in flames, and unfortunately seemed to cause the wraith to bite down on the man harder. He choked up more blood, and Sophia could see red stained between the creature’s teeth. The other arm shot towards her, but Sophia dodged and shoved the blade into the creatures back. She heard the Templar being released and spit into the ground, and then suddenly the two ash wraiths were upon her.

Sophia tried not to gag at the smell of burnt flesh that overcame her as she got closer to the wraiths.

Belen, Ash, and Claus shot arrows at the creatures from behind her, circling in a ring that was just outside of grabbing distance, while Sophia cursed at the fact that she didn’t have a shield. She dodged and parried the best she could with only one means to attack and defend herself. Another strike at the creature’s face, which bellowed in outrage as flames lit up the skull, the woman’s leftover eyeballs oozing from the now exposed holes. And then Sophia watched with trepidation as the other wraith made its way around her and headed straight for Kathari, who had stayed close to the tree line.

“Kathari!” Sophia called, sending one more cut through the torso of the creature in front of her, slashing a horizontal line across the thing’s mouth, before she sprinted to reach the pregnant elf. She looked over to see Claus sprinting just as fast.

Sophia reached Kathari first, and she threw herself in front of the shaking elf just as the creature’s arm swung down to meet them. Sophia groaned in pain as she felt claws tear into the flesh on her back, and attempted to spin back around. The next strike would have caught her side, but suddenly there was a blade that bit into the creature’s arm, and there was a tall body that stood over them.

Sophia didn’t allow herself the time to look over and identify her savior. The other ash wraith, marred and angry but still standing, glided over. She ignored the pain that radiated from her back and up her shoulder as she struck her sword into the side of the creature’s neck. Another bellowing scream, but then Sophia’s body began to tingle in a familiar way.

The need was biting and immediate. She looked over almost absentmindedly and saw an elf block the demon with a shield through a blur, and then suddenly her vision was pulsing a deep red. She didn’t have to look down to know her scars were glowing the color of embers. She felt a connection reach out, grasp at the piece of Fade inside the creatures, and _pull_.

The next couple of minutes happened in a blur. She saw the creatures disintegrate into a burst of blood, ashes, and energy, which her body readily absorbed. She barely noticed the rush as overcome as she was to relive the dead bodies last moments. The fire was more biting than she could have imagined. The sorrow, and anger, and desperation, and frustration burned into her flesh, intermixed with a pain that pulled at her bones. The feeling was oddly familiar, and she barely recognized screams, her screams, echo off trees before she came back into herself.

She looked around, overwhelmed and breathing heavily, bloody tears streaming down her face. She couldn’t find any demons. She turned back to Kathari, and saw the elf staring at her with wide eyes, obviously afraid. Was she… was she afraid of her now? More tears fell, and Sophia fell on her knees beside the elf. “Kathari…” It was practically a whine.

She saw the woman’s jaw set, and then she came forward and gripped Sophia’s hand tightly. Sophia held onto that warmth with no small amount of desperation, and looked around at the rest of the clearing.

Everyone was staring at her, with varying expressions. Ash looked the least disturbed; merely curious and concerned. Claus looked wary and tense, staring at their collapsed hands with apprehension. Belen was pale, but calculating, looking from her to the piles of red ashes with speculation. Lastly, her unexpected savior was staring at her in surprise and concern, although she couldn’t discern if that concern was for her or himself. Sophia also thought that he had to be the most beautiful man she had ever seen.

Sophia needed to get ahold of herself, comely elves aside. She took a deep, steadying breath, let go of Kathari’s hand, and slowly got to her feet. She then walked over to where the Templar was taking hurried, wheezing breaths. She knew as soon as she got to his side that there was no way to save him. Blood poured from holes in his torso, and the features of his face were difficult to make out amidst the crusty crimson plastered to his cheeks and around his mouth.

She kneeled by his side, and he looked up at her in despair, his breath rattling. “Can- _breath_ \- you- _breath_ \- read me- _breath_ \- the Chant- _breath_ -of Light?”

Sophia felt torn. Here was a man dying- a terrible man, who had done terrible things. She had just experienced the horrible pain of his victims, and he was by no means faultless as to his current circumstances. But he was dying, and had asked a last request that she could actually fulfill. Did he deserve her compassion?

She found herself reciting the words before she completely realized what she was doing. Because how was she to know his circumstances? The ways he may have been misled? The cruelties of the world he might have experienced that helped to shape his choices? How utterly tragic would it be not to give him one last modicum of comfort? Although she did not read the Canticle of Benedictions, which is what he probably expected. She couldn’t call him a champion of the just after what she just witnessed.

“Here lies the abyss, the well of all souls. From these emerald waters doth life begin anew. Come to me, child, and I shall embrace you. In my arms lies Eternity.”

The man stopped breathing and Sophia stood. She stepped away from the body, and Ash’s voice rang out, sounding upset. “Is dea tel gonathe mar lanaste.” _He was not worthy of your mercy_.

Sophia turned to stare at the elf, who was fidgeting with physical agitation. “Eh ame ar eolasa?” _Who am I to know (judge)?_

Her attention quickly shifted to the stranger, who was quickly approaching her. He looked… confused. Up close Sophia could see a tattoo of branches that spread out over his forehead and under his eyes. It was rather lovely, set underneath curling dark brown hair and wrapping around eyes that were more green than hazel.

He stared at her for a long moment. He turned to look at each of her companions, and then turned back at her, his brow furrowed and his mouth pursed. Then he straightened and looked her confidently in the eye, as if he had internally made some kind of decision, and stated, “An’daran Atish’an.” _The place you go is a place of peace._

Sophia looked at the man curiously. “Mar enaste lane m lath’in’iseth.” _Your grace warms my heart._

The man frowned again, returning her curiosity with a lifted brow, before stating, “Ma ane neum.” _You are hurt._

Sophia looked down at the bottom of her gown, and was slightly surprised to see that it was stained red. And then, like a rush (maybe the endorphins wore off?) the pain in her back and shoulders once again grabbed at her attention. She winced, but smiled. “Ar ame vunal. i in mar glandival. Ma serannas.” _I am alive. And in your debt. Thank you._

The man nodded, and looked around at the clearing in discernment. And then looked back at her. “If you are willing, my clan can offer you treatment.”

Sophia felt the surprise she was feeling shape her face. She knew from his facial tattoo that he must be Dalish; perhaps even from the clan that they were hoping to warn off. She wasn’t about to look a gift horse in the mouth, but she also knew how reclusive these clans usually were to humans. “I would be happy to accept. If you would be willing to let us collect our horses.”

The man nodded, and then gestured towards the trees behind them. Another Dalish elf, nervously gripping a bow, joined the group, eyes flitting across each of them almost manically. Her rescuer approached her, pulling a piece of linen out of a satchel clipped to his waist. He stood in front of her, almost awkwardly for a moment, before smiling apologetically and stating, "This might hurt a bit." Sophia stiffened as the beautiful elf slowly wrapped the linen around her torso, just tight enough to staunch the bleeding. "To stop the bleeding," he stated unnecessarily, looking nervous as he tied the cloth end together. She smiled at him in thanks as they headed back to the stream. He nodded, looking red in the face.

Ash, with few social qualms, was quick to make the acquaintance of both elves. “Savh! Ahn mar mellan?” _Hi! What is your name?_

Sophia’s rescuer responded promptly. “Mahanon.”

The other elf gave the woman a look, eyeing her face with narrowed eyes, and stated, “Fenlassan.”

Ash, used to this kind of treatment, smiled cheerily. “I’m Ashiwyn. Can I call you Fen?”

The man leveled her a look of dispassion that bordered contempt “No.”

Ash winked. “Of course, Fen. Shall I introduce you to our party? That lovely pregnant lady over there is Kathari. The man following her overprotectively, practically stepping on her heels? Claus. That one other there with his bow still out is Belen. Jumpy, that one. And this gorgeous piece of scarred flesh with a propensity of sucking the life out of demons? Sophia.”

Sophia snorted. “Thanks Ash.”

Ash grinned in her direction. “Of course!”

Fenlassan frowned in distaste, and asked, “You are flat-ears?”

Ash dropped all signs of affability. “We are slaves.”

Both men jerked back at that, and turned to look at Sophia. Who glared at both of them. “Don’t look at me like that. They are not _my_ slaves. They are my friends.”

An awkward silence settled.

It only took a couple more minutes to locate and untie the horses. Kathari, Ash, and Claus got on their mounts, but Sophia and Belen chose to remain on foot, leading the horses by the reins. The small group followed the Dalish elves further into the forest. Mahanon asked why she wasn’t riding the horse, considering her injury. Sophia just smiled. “I would hate to bleed all over the horse. Especially since she is such a pretty white.”

The group fell into another period of silence, which Sophia was surprised to hear Kathari break.

“Is that what it was like when… _that_ man died?”

Sophia paled. “Almost. But… bloodier. With more screaming.” And she didn’t feel his emotions in the same way. What facilitated that response? The demon’s connections to both the person and the Fade?

Fenlassan turned to look at her with wide eyes. “You have done that to… people?”

Sophia narrowed her eyes, stepping closer to her horse defensively. “There were extenuating circumstances. I hardly go around killing people indiscriminately.”

Kathari nodded, her eyes fierce. “He was an evil man. And his treatment of elves… he deserved his fate, make no mistake.” Sophia frowned, and reached up to grasp the elf’s hand. She squeezed it assuredly.

Both of the Dalish watched this exchange in bemusement. Sophia noticed, and jutted her chin out stubbornly as if daring them to say something about it. Mahanon gave her a small, amused smirk at the display. Sophia flushed.

It only took another ten minutes to reach the camp, and Sophia stared at the aravels with wonder. The carriages had sails! Beautiful red sails on top of polished wood- and they smelled fantastic. Like pine. Yum. Mahanon noticed her fascination, and gave her another of his smirks. She flushed once again.

Damn beautiful men.

Both elves wasted no time taking their group to see an aged woman situated in the center of the clearing, holding a beautifully carved staff, which they introduced as Keeper Deshanna Istimaethoriel Lavellan. Quite the mouthful. The woman beamed at the group, her smile pulling back the wrinkles around her eyes and mouth. “Hello! Welcome. What brings you here today?”

Not even a hint of suspicion. Their behavior went against everything Sophia had read about the Dalish. Exactly what was this clan?

Mahanon stood behind Sophia and gently grasped hold of her wrist, leading her forward. “Nothing pleasant, I’m afraid. She needs healing.” He slowly spun her around so the Keeper could see her back. 

Sophia could hear an audible intake of breath. It must not be pretty.

The Keeper spoke, sounding a tad breathless. “How did this happen?”

“A Templar had tracked a couple of mages down using a phylactery. He burned them alive, and their corpses turned into demons,” Mahanon paused for a moment, before stating, “She got hurt trying to protect this one.” Sophia turned and saw he was pointing at Kathari, who had a solemn look on her face. 

The Keeper looked between the two of them, her head tilted curiously. And then she addressed Sophia. “One does not meet many humans willing to risk themselves for an elf.”

Sophia frowned. “Kathari is my friend.”

The Keeper nodded. “Which is also unusual. Where are you from?”

Sophia mouth didn’t change, knowing this answer wouldn’t be received well. “Tevinter.”

The Keeper’s smile dropped and her eyes hardened. “I see. Slaves?” she asked, looking at her elven compatriots. They nodded. She looked back at Sophia. “Interesting. Are you their owner? Or their… _charge?_ ”

Sophia was upset at the insinuation. “I cannot speak for them. But I consider them _my_ people. Through ties of kinship. Not ownership.”

The mistrust on the Keeper’s face didn’t change as she faced her friends. “I see. And what do the rest of you think?”

Ash was the first to answer, which gratified Sophia’s heart. “She is mine.” The elf smirked and walked up to Sophia, not hesitating to reach a hand up and ruffle the dark brown curls playfully. Sophia batted her finger away, pouting. “She was mine from the first time I heard her curse in Elven. Just salacious and blasphemous to steal a girl’s heart. Too friendly and compassionate for her own good, mind you, but she is still mine.”

Kathari was the next to stand by her. Which she did by actually walking over to stand by her. “She is mine as well. My friend. My protector.” Sophia didn’t wait to reach over and squeeze the elf’s hand, smiling widely. 

Claus and Belen came to stand behind Kathari. Claus looked at the Keeper and stated, “She is mine. My friend and my co-conspirator. Who shook my hand, vowing to stand by us and our plans of rebellion, within minutes of meeting us. Because she wants to help and protect.” Sophia was rather overwhelmed. Not only by his good opinion, but his mention of the handshake. So that is what it meant? A vow? Not that she was interested in taking it back… but she could feel that there were other connotations associated with vows that she was still ignorant of. Exactly what did she agree to?

Belen spoke up quietly. “I have not known Sophia as long, but I still consider her one of my people. She can be willful, rash, and opinionated, but she is also intelligent, courageous, and compassionate. I believe she has room to grow, but as her friend, I am looking forward to getting there with her.” Aw… Sophia turned and grinned at him. She had no idea; the elf was usually very quiet, and not the type to discuss anything personal. That he felt this way was something of a surprise.

At least the Keeper no longer looked suspicious. “Interesting,” she stated again, although less sarcastically. “And why are you here in the Free Marches?”

Sophia’s face fell. “Ah. Well, in Tevinter there is a hunting party made up of children of the Magisterium. We became aware that they were planning to come to this area, and were concerned they would attempt to target elves- either in the refugee camps outside of Hasmal, or in some of the Dalish clans traveling along the border. We accompanied the group, hoping to find a way to warn anyone who might be in danger.”

The Keeper raised her brow. “Who are you, to accompany such a group?”

Sophia frowned. She didn’t feel like there was a good way to answer this. “A medical experiment who was recently adopted by a Magister?”

The Keeper’s eyebrows shot to her hairline, the wrinkles on her forehead folding magnificently. “Is that so. And who were you before the experiment?”

Sophia shrugged, her lips twisted in self-deprecation. “No idea. I lost all of my memories.”

The Keeper chortled. “Well, I think unusual might be your defining characteristic. I will need to talk to my people about a couple of things. Come along- the healer is this way.”

Healing involved administering a poultice made of some kind of plant to her back. Which was extremely painful, especially against her sensitive skin; everything tingled in a way that was just prickly enough to be irritating, rather than soothing. Although it smelled lovely. 

And the healer was rather fascinated with her scars. Which she had an opportunity to see in detail as Sophia changed clothes. Her dress had been destroyed by the demon, and all of the outfits she had packed were too layered or constricting around her torso to be worn with her wound. As a result, Sophia was now dressed in Dalish clothing, which included leather breeches and a double-layered cloth tunic in earthy colors. Leather wrappings around her feet included. It had been offered, and Sophia was very curious. She liked the idea; shoes were very uncomfortable.

Ash cooed sarcastically at her as soon as she saw her appearance. “You look so… elfy.”

Sophia snorted. “Says the elf.”

Ash grinned. “Exactly.”

They passed a small group of children who all had frustrated looks on their face. “We were given June’s knot,” a little girl explained, as if that should explain their predicament. She held up a wooden, carved puzzle box. Sophia nodded in confusion. Was frustration to be expected? 

They approached the Keeper just as a couple of Dalish elves popped out of the trees and threw themselves in front of her. “Keeper! We have news. There was an attack on the refugee camp outside of Hasmal, and a large number of escaped slaves are heading into the forest.”

The Keeper turned to them. “Who were the attackers?”

The Dalish hunter frowned. “Nevarran mages, Keeper. They confronted a group of Tevinters outside the town first, and then moved into the camp. The refugees reported few casualties- they said that the mages were looking for someone. But in the chaos, and in such close proximity to the Tevinters, they panicked.”

The Keeper frowned. “Let’s try to intercept them and get an idea of where they are going. And if they know who the Nevarrans were looking for. I’m afraid to think of who might be following them.”

The Keeper turned towards Sophia and her party. “You wanted to help the refugees. Now is your chance.” She turned to look behind Sophia. “Mahanon? You will be in charge of leading their group out to meet the refugees. Do what you can to help, but don’t take any unnecessary risks.”

Sophia nodded. “Thank you, Keeper.”

The woman’s smile was grim. “Don’t thank me yet.” She addressed the group, “Everyone else, get prepared to move. It seems this area is no longer safe.”


	9. The Hunt: Part III

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which things do not go well for our protagonist.

“The worst part of holding the memories is not the pain. It's the loneliness of it. Memories need to be shared.” ― Lois Lowry

**Chapter 9: The Hunt: Part III**

Mahanon rallied a small group of Dalish elves, including one of the scouts who had seen the refugees, and mounted harts that were stabled next to a corralled group of halla. The combined group set off following the scout at a quick pace, when Sophia suddenly pulled to a stop, feeling violently ill. She staggered off of her horse and fell on her hands and knees, just in time to expel the contents of her stomach. Sophia moaned in discomfort, before she looked down and swore. There, in the partly digested remnants of her breakfast, lay pieces of small, glowing red crystals. She looked up at Ash in fear, who had dismounted her horse and stood beside her. “What is this?” she asked in an agitated whisper.

Ash frowned in concern. “Red lyrium typically uses the energy of the Fade to grow. It must have attempted to grow inside you after you absorbed the energy of those demons, but when it couldn’t cipher energy off of your tissue, forced your body to expel the crystals.”

Mahanon stood behind them looking pale. “What is that?”

Sophia was bitter. “Magical forces beyond my control causing me bodily harm.”

The Dalish elf frowned. “From your scars?” Sophia nodded. “Can’t you control it?”

Sophia looked at him with pursed lips, feeling defensive. “I am not a mage. Where would I have gotten the training to learn how to control something like this? Unless you have any ideas?”

Mahanon looked frustrated, his brow furrowed. “Well, it is your body, right? And magic operates according to your will? How difficult can it be?”

Sophia sat back on her heels and looked at him incredulously. “Seriously? Yes, this is my body, but it was altered by an injection of sentient magical crystals tainted with the blight against my will. How exactly am I supposed to control this?” Despite these words, Sophia began to feel afraid and ashamed- what if he was right? What if she could have controlled this ability to siphon energy, but never bothered to try, too preoccupied with believing she was powerless? 

“I thought you said you don’t use the power indiscriminately. Wouldn’t that imply some level of control?”

“It only seems to happen in extreme situations-”

He interrupted, “It only _seems_ to happen?”

“When I am dying or surrounded by demons-”

“Does that happen often for you, then?”

Sophia bit down on her retort, and realized she was speaking too loudly and breathing too rapidly in her frustration, her fists clenched. She forced herself to calm down, and then stood up walked over towards Mahanon until she was standing right in front of him. She looked straight in his eyes and stated as calmly as she could, “What are you worried about? If you really think I am that unstable, you don’t need to stay with us.”

Mahanon appeared contrite, but upset. Afraid. “I just want my people to be protected. I assumed you knew what you were doing, considering the relatively calm reactions of your companions, but looking back I suppose I should’ve realized… After you screamed, and looked so frightened…”

Sophia could feel tears well at the corner of her eyes. Her least favorite reaction to too much stress and frustration. “I apologize if you feel that way. I can assure you, I am doing the best that I can. I don’t want to hurt anyone, and I will do whatever it takes to help. But if you are that uncomfortable with me, feel free to return to your clan.”

She looked up and saw that he looked more than a little distressed. “Aren’t you afraid? Of what will happen? Of what you can do?”

Sophia felt her face crumple and tears fall. Of course she was. “Terrified.” 

The conflict was stark on his face for several moments, before he took another step forward and reached for her hand. The leather of his gloves was warm and silky against her skin as his grip tightened assuredly. “I’m sure there’s a way,” he stated with confidently, looking the epitome of faith.

Sophia smiled through her tears. “How could I argue when you sound so sure of yourself?”

The grin he gave her was rakish. “Confidence is one of my best qualities.”

She smirked. “You wear it well.”

The man pretended to preen, and then sent her a wink.

Damn blush.

There was a small cough from someone behind them, and they came back to themselves. “Right,” Mahanon stated, looking focused, “We should get going.”

-

Luckily, Sophia and Mahanon’s group reached the refugees first. Sophia barely had to look at the stream of alarmed, frantic people before she dismounted and rushed forward. There, trailing behind the group a ways- Sophia saw a woman, her belly swollen with child, desperately tugging on the wrist of a crying toddler. Beside her, an elderly man, his leather-like, wrinkled skin covered in scars, hobbling over a broken log. Sophia didn’t waste any time swinging her traveling bag off the horse and over her shoulder, and offering the horse to the stragglers. The woman, an elf, was wary, but looking behind her in fear she gradually nodded. Sophia helped her mount the mare, assisted the man in behind her, and settled the toddler in front of her. The small group galloped away.

The next thing that caught her eye was a group of children, looking a bit lost. Sophia attempted to direct them, giving them encouragement to go faster. She stopped as an elven man dropped in beside the group to usher the orphans forward as well.

Sophia glanced up at the man absentmindedly, but once she got a good look at him, turned to stare. He… this must be Leto. Or… Fenris, now, she supposed. It had to be. He had lyrium scars trailing up the visible parts of his arms and face. His chin was angular, his hair stock white, and his skin tanned. He seemed to notice her at the same time she noticed him, and Sophia took note of the look of horror that dominated his face with consternation. “Who are you?” he asked with an appalled sense of disdain.

“Danarius’ latest experiment,” Sophia responded with sardonic smile.

She heard Ash whisper, “Leto,” almost absentmindedly, and took a few steps closer to the man. Sophia was absolutely curious. And surprised at the intensity of her interest.

Well… this encounter wasn’t exactly a surprise. Ash had said that she heard he was in Hasmal. The reality of their meeting, however, startled her, and she realized she had so many questions. What was his experience with lyrium scars like? Was his skin overly sensitive? Was there pain? Was he able to gradually regain some of his memories? How did he leave Tevinter? Was he able to feel the emotions and experiences of the people he… phased through? Or whatever else it was he did?

The scarred elf frowned. And then looked at her clothing ensemble with confusion, staring down at her exposed toes visible through the leather straps with bemusement. “What-” he started…

They were interrupted by Mahanon, who approached her side still riding his hart. “Sophia!” he called urgently, and both she and Fenris looked up to see a couple of men galloping towards them. She recognized the Altus and his friend, and waved her hand at him in relief. “Dorian!” she called out. Both of the elves beside her looked at her in apprehension, Fenris’ eyes narrowed.

The two stopped abruptly in front of the group, and Dorian swung off the horse. He marched forward to look her over, the concern stark on his face. But after realizing she wasn’t bleeding and noticing the strangeness of her ensemble, his face lightened and he snorted. “I leave you for one hour, and you’re been adopted by the Dalish.” Felix just smirked at her. Insufferable men.

Sophia wasted no time on pleasantries. “What’s going on? What happened?”

Dorian’s face darkened. “The Mortalitasi. Otherwise known as Nevarran’s Death Mages. They must have heard we would be in the area. Apparently, they intend to kidnap you.” He paused, and then gave Fenris a considering look, “Although they probably wouldn’t be against grabbing you too.”

Sophia felt a bit flabbergasted. “Why would they want us?”

Dorian shifted uncomfortably. “I actually trained with them for a few months during my apprenticeship. After I decided to specialize in necromancy. While I was there, I was aware that the ruler, Markus Pentaghast, was looking for worthy vessels. Do you know anything about the Mortalitasi?”

Sophia shook her head. Fenris snarled, so she assumed he knew something. That was reaffirmed as the elf then growled, “They unnaturally modify bodies and use them to occupy their city of the dead.”

Dorian couldn’t resist giving the elf a pedantic look. “An extremely over-simplified version of what they do, but yes. The Mortalitasi believe that when a soul of the dead transcends into the Fade, it displaces a spirit in the process. So they believe if they mummify and enchant corpses, they will be able to facilitate that displacement and use the body as a host. While I was there they just drew wisps across the Veil, but I heard a rumor…” he stopped abruptly, his brows furrowed, as if contemplating the legitimacy of this claim for himself. 

Sophia looked towards where Dorian and Felix had come from, and thought she heard the sound of riders off in the distance. She looked nervously up at her friend, and prompted, “A rumor?”

“Well, it’s no secret that Markus Pentaghast is a bit… mad. And frequently ill. There was a rumor that he is trying to fashion a corpse that his spirit could inhabit after he meets his untimely end.”

Ash spoke up from on top of her horse somewhere behind Sophia. “I see. And lyrium acts as a conduit of the Fade, which is why mages use it to temporarily increase their power. So they assume that obtaining a corpse with lyrium markings will allow them to control that displacement. And allow for the regulation of a spirit greater than a wisp.”

Dorian gave the elf a curious look. “You sound rather informed. Desmarais?”

The elf’s eyes narrowed defensively, but she nodded.

“And Danarius just let you leave? You must have been expensive.”

The elven women rolled her eyes, and backed closer to Sophia defensively. “Not nearly as much of an investment as these two,” she huffed, gesturing to Sophia and Fenris.

Dorian nodded. “True. You think the man would learn after what happened with that one,” he gestured to the scarred elf.

Sophia felt indignant at the insinuation. “Learn better how to not lose his _things?_ I belong to myself. Whatever he has done to my body does not change that fact.”

Dorian frowned, looking concerned at her defensiveness. “You know I didn’t mean it like that, kitten.”

Sophia just frowned and hugged herself. 

Fenris watched her, strangely looking both curious and full of contempt. “Are you a slave?”

Sophia answered, her jaw jutted stubbornly in front of her and her eyes hard. “No. But that does not mean that he isn’t attempting to legally own me. Stupid fucking misogynistic Tevinter laws.” She practically grumbled this last part.

The contempt won out on his face, and Fenris was practically sneering, sounding resentful. “You are human. That already made you exempt for slavery. Your experience could not have been that awful.”

Sophia indignation rose. “At least your participation in his experiments was a choice. I was taken against my will. And don’t you dare deny my suffering. Not you.”

The elven man looked angry and contrite, his gloved grip on the pommel of his sword tensing. 

Huffing, trying to blink away more stupid tears (who cries when they are angry? How is that fair?) Sophia looked up at the tree line behind them. And saw actually horses approaching in the distance. Perhaps about three dozen men? They needed to act fast. She looked around at all of them solemnly, wiping away her tears with a gloved hand. “What is our game plan?”

Dorian repeated the phase, “Game plan?” with some confusion. Was that an obscure turn of phrase? Sophia elaborated on what she meant. “What are we going to do? We need to keep them away from the refugees. And the Dalish clan,” she looked up at Dorian. “I know I am not a favorite member among our party. Do you know if they are aiding the mages in anyway?”

Dorian frowned in a considering and worried manner, and stated, “I hadn’t considered it, but it’s possible.”

“Are they looking just for me, or do they know he is here?” Sophia pointed to Fenris.

“They asked for you. I’m not sure if they know he is here, but they might have seen him going through the refugee camp.”

Sophia nodded. “So we need to leave. As visibly as possible. And lead the mages away from the more vulnerable groups. Separately. It would help to divide their forces.”

Mahanon spoke up from behind him, sounding amused. “Might be difficult for you to do after you gave away your horse.”

Sophia spun, spotted his smirk, and resisted the urge to stick out her tongue. Instead she pouted. “What would you have me do?”

The elf jostled his hart forward a few feet, and reached out his hand. “Thanin is fast. And he has experience running in the forest. We should be able to lead them away.”

Thanin? His hart was named Glory? Sophia took a deep breath, and clasped his hand. He helped her mount the hart behind him. She hesitantly brought her arms loosely around his waist. He grabbed her arms from behind him and pulled them forward so her chest was snug against his back. Ignoring how hot her cheeks suddenly felt, she addressed the other hunted individual. “Fenris?”

Ash interjected before he could say anything. “He can have my horse, if he doesn’t have one already.” Fenris looked up at her curiously. Kathari looked at Sophia, “I can ride with Claus.” It took a minute for everyone to switch horses, and by then the riders were nearly before them.

“Divide and conquer,” Sophia stated. “We try to lead the mages away without getting caught, and eventually try to regroup at the camps outside Hasmal. Agreed?” Everyone nodded.

Dorian looked at Sophia. “We will return to the party and see if anyone would be willing to help us.” He shot a worried look towards Felix, and Sophia understood. And brightened at the possibility of reinforcements. She nodded grimly, and shot Felix a wobbly smile. The poor boy looked concerned and frustrated, but after Dorian shot him a hard look, resigned. He smiled back.

Mahanon turned towards the Dalish scouts. “Follow the refugees. Find out where they are going, help where you can, and then return to the clan.” He then looked down at his hart. “Thanin. Ar’an nuven’in ea shem.” _We need to be quick_. The hart tossed his head, and took off towards the incoming mages as Mahanon tugged the reins. Claus, Kathari, and Belen followed. Dorian and Felix trailed a little behind, and Sophia watched Fenris ride out on the side opposite followed by Ash.

Suddenly Thanin jumped to the side, narrowly missing a beam of frosty ice shards. Sophia anxiously grasped onto Mahanon, and after they righted, held onto his waist with her left arm as she unsheathed her sword on her right. She looked at the group of mages riding towards them, waited for a beam of electricity to shoot towards them, and swung her sword out in front of them. Just like what happened when she was against the mage, a wave of energy shot out against the Nevarrans. It rebounded all of the magic spelled towards them, and some of the mages in the forefront were actually thrown from their horses as the barriers they erected in front of them bounced back. All of the groups used this distraction as an opportunity to shoot past the mages, who exclaimed as they caught sight of her and her scars. Another exclaim came as they spotted Fenris.

A good chunk of the mages bounded after them, but Thanin was careful to weave through the trees. They soon shot ahead of the group. Her friends following on horses had a bit of difficulty following them, and Sophia worried for them, but luckily the mages seemed to pay more attention to catching her than incapacitating the individuals following her. 

Sophia was forced to resheath her sword, not knowing where to rest it safely and needing to cling to Mahanon’s waist as Thanin darted quickly between trees. After one rather spectacular dodge away from a lucky shot of flames, Sophia addressed the hart’s name. “So, why exactly is Thanin glorious? His speed, his ability to dodge, or his gorgeous coat?”

Mahanon laughed. “Isn’t it obvious?” He patted the hart in front of him with great affection. “Everything about him is glorious.” He sent her a cheeky grin from in front of her. The hart clearly agreed with the elf, throwing his head and making a sound of assertion.

Sophia grinned at the pair of them in response. The hart’s smug behavior was adorable. And Mahanon was just… even his arrogance was endearing. Sophia couldn’t help but like him. Mahanon’s smile grew larger when he saw her own, and her stomach filled with butterflies. The man had a beautiful smile.

There were another couple of minutes before they hit a clearing and lost their advantage. Sophia turned around to assess where everyone else. The horse belonging to Claus and Kathari was about fifty feet away, and Belen was just a bit further down. She turned back around just in time to see a small group of mages come out of the edge of the clearing in front of them, and send a wave of elemental magic at Mahanon.

Sophia didn’t have time to unsheathe her sword, but knew her odd resistance to magic would save him, and didn’t hesitate to throw herself forward on top of the horse so she could intercept the wave. The actually maneuver she attempted was dangerous and poorly thought out, as she almost fell off the hart attempted to get in front of him, but Mahanon caught her waist and suddenly she was there to bat the ball of energy away. Mahanon saw this interaction with magic, looking curious, but merely settled her down in front of him more comfortably so she could protect his front.

Unfortunately, that exposed their back. It took a couple of minutes, but eventually there were enough mages behind them throwing random magework in their direction that one beam caught the hart around the legs. Both riders were hurled off his back as Thanin whined in pain. Sophia got up wincing while attempting to ignore the shot of pain up her side and the wetness pooling down the side of her head. She unsheathed her sword and heard Mahanon do the same, both of them moving to stand in front of the injured hart protectively. Sophia swung her arm out, her sword cutting into the air in front of her, and another dispel barrier formed and spread like a wave towards the mages. Claus and Kathari reached them shortly after that, followed by Belen. Claus helped Kathari dismount and stand behind Sophia. Then Claus and Belen both withdrew their bows and started releasing arrows. 

There were too many of them. Sophia had originally estimated three dozen, but there must have been more because she saw some of them go after Fenris, and there were at least three dozen surrounding them right now. They were careful to keep their distance from the withdrawn swords, and Sophia could only protect them by dispelling the projected magic from so many directions at one time. Her attempts to swing in a circle were not nearly as effective, so she resorted to systematic long sweeps. And Claus and Belen were having only so much luck shooting down their opponents, considering all of the individuals they were shooting against had erected barriers.

Eventually spells were able to slip past her and affect the members of their party. Sophia witnessed the carnage with a growing sense of horror. She saw Claus topple off the horse from a fire spell, the flames shooting up his legs, his hands sprawled out on the ground in front of him. He screamed as Kathari quickly put out the flames. His horse made terrifying sounds of distress and bolted, still on fire. She saw Belen flung back into a tree, frozen icicles piercing his body and pinning it to the bark between several branches. From behind her, she saw Mahanon get caught by a lightening spell and suddenly fall to the forest floor in an unconscious heap.

Sophia couldn’t help from rushing forward, cupping his face in her hands and checking for a pulse nervously. She was more than a little relieved to hear a steady heartbeat, but panicked at her situation. She looked over just in time to see Kathari withdraw daggers that she swore glowed a red. Then she turned just in time to see a couple of rogue approach her from behind the line of mages.

Stupid fucking rogues.

She tried to fight them off with her sword the best that she could, but her vision became fuzzy at just the wrong time, and the sick grin of triumph of a leering rogue was the last thing Sophia saw before she was knocked unconscious.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So Sophia ended up being the hunted... Please let me know what you think.


	10. Nevarra

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Escape.

“Memories are bullets. Some whiz by and only spook you. Others tear you open and leave you in pieces.” 

-Richard Kadrey

 

**Chapter 10: Nevarra**

 

Sophia came to with a groan, shaking, her entire body aching with pain. The first thing she noticed was the sound of rattling metal as her cheek slid against a wood texture. Other sensations soon registered; freezing metal shackles biting into her wrists and ankles, a metallic taste in her mouth, and a sense of motion. A large bump slammed her head against the wood, which she attempted to raise through a wince.

It was bright. Too bright. Gradually the light settled, and she could see the other occupants in what looked to be a traveling metal cage.

Claus was the furthest away. His calves and feet were inflamed, covered in angry red blisters, and Sophia knew the shackles around his ankles must feel like hell. His face didn’t show it. His mouth was straight, his eyes hard, and the angle of his chin was defiant. His arms were wrapped protectively around a sleeping Kathari, his bound wrists resting on top of her swollen stomach. Kathari face was streaked with dirt, a cut extending from the sole of one her bare feet, her lip split. Other than that, she seemed no worse for wear.

Ash was holding herself tightly, her bound hands clutching her legs against her chest. Sophia’s attention was caught on the elf’s fingernails and hands, cracked and caked with dirt. Her faced was lined with tears, but none of that distress was present in her expression. In fact, Sophia could see the woman looking around at their guards with careful consideration.

Fenris looked like a barely contained wild animal, cornered and ready to pounce. He was crouching, his muscles tense, the chains connecting the shackles strained. He was the most obviously injured; blood seeped through the holes in his armor onto the wood floor, and his hands were so covered in red, Sophia could barely see the lyrium markings.

Two members of their party were obviously absent.

“Belen? Mahanon?” Sophia tried to ask the group, but the sound was so raspy, it was barely intelligible.

Three elves turned as one to look at her as Sophia attempted to sit up. The looks they gave her were not encouraging- Ash was dispassionate, Claus looked like he was hanging onto his sanity by a thread, and Fenris snarled.

Kathari answered, opening her eyes, her face solemn. “They were left behind. Left for dead. Belen had already bled out, pined to the tree, and Mahanon... wasn’t moving.”

Dead? He… she remembered. The icicles protruding from Belen’s chest, his eyes unmoving, face slack. But Mahanon- she felt a heartbeat, she knew she did. So there was a chance he was still alive? Although who knew what they did to their bodies…

Sophia could feel her face contort. Stressed. Guilty. God. This was her fault, wasn’t it? The reason they were all here like this. Shit.

Still. Only one thing to do for it now.

“What now?” Sophia asked, looking at each of the elves in turn.

Fenris looked tense and angry. “Did you have something in mind?”

Sophia turned to Ash. The only one who seemed to be actively looking for a way out. “Ash?”

Ash’s lips were pursed, her dirty fingers clenched over her knees. “We are being escorted by a large group. Well trained, well-armed, and made up of more than just mages.”

Sophia looked around the outside of the cage, and noticed that their forces were not evenly distributed around them. A majority of the group seemed to be in front of them. She also noticed that everyone was using horses, including their moving slave pen. Startling the horses might be a good place to start.

She didn’t realize she was murmuring her thoughts out loud until Fenris responded to them. “Perhaps, but we would need to be capable of escaping first.” He pulled on his shackles to enunciate his point.

Sophia looked down at the shackles. These were not the same kind used by Danarius, which were reinforced with magic. These were screwed shut with metal and locked with a key. It looked like it could be picked. She asked Ash.

The elf frowned in consideration. “I would need something to pick it with.”

Sophia could feel her the pins in her hair, put in that morning, still pulling slightly at her skull. “My hair pins?”

Ash’s eyes brightened. “Might work.”

Claus spoke up, stressed. “We would need to do it without them noticing. And find a way to open the cage. We don’t have the time, and they’re not stupid.”

“They don’t let us out at all? Even to relieve ourselves? How long have we been traveling?”

Fenris frowned. “We were captured yesterday. They did let us out last night, briefly, but we were heavily guarded. And might I mention that they took our weapons.”

Sophia looked at him. “Do you know where they put them?”

His smile was sardonic. “With the supply cart, I imagine. Which they are pulling at the front of the group.”

Sophia looked around at the terrain outside of the cart. The dirt was sandy, the plains made up of rolling hills, and there was minimal tree cover. Not at all good for escape. “Is there a clear leader who makes all of the decisions? Or does it seem like everyone is acting independently?”

Fenris’ eyebrow raised. “It almost sounds like you’ve been captured before.”

Ash smiled in her direction. “She was. Gave Danarius the slip, but ended up on the roof. Threw herself off of that old tower so she wouldn’t be subject to experimentation.”

Sophia looked at the blonde elf curiously. “I did?” She couldn’t remember.

Fenris was curious too. “That old tower was at least 70 feet tall. How did she survive?”

Ash’s smile fell. “Danarius made a pact with a demon. The… thing caught her before she could reach the ground.”

Fenris snorted and snarled at the same time. “Or course he did.”

“Has he made deals with demons before?”

Fenris stared at her, his expression disconcerting. “He has. The kind of blood magic he… indulges himself in requires it.”

The thought upset Sophia, but she pushed it into the back of her head. Now was not the time. “Is there a leader?”

Claus answered. “Yes. A Pentaghast, riding in the front. But everyone else has received clear orders to ensure our capture and transport to their capital. I don’t think they would be afraid to act independently.”

Sophia nodded, biting her lip. “How are we all doing? Anyone injured?” She then looked straight at Fenris. “And if so, how badly?”

Claus looked like he was biting his tongue, water forming at the corner of his eyes to illustrate his pain. “I don’t think I can walk.”

Sophia scooted herself forward to look more closely at his feet. A majority of the blisters were centered around the ankle and lower calf, although the streak of red, inflamed skin did extend down to the bottom of his feet. This needed immediate medical attention. The burn needed to be chilled, disinfected, and wrapped in sterile bandages. Most of which could be found in her pack, but the bag was not on her.

“Did they put our packs by our weapons?”

“One can only assume.”

“Anyone else? Fenris? You look like you are still bleeding.”

The elf in question stared at her for a moment, as if deciding whether or not to tell her. He eventually said, “They killed my horse, and I fell under it as it was falling. Broken wrist and a couple of broken ribs. They knocked me out with a blow to the head, so I suspect a concussion.”

Sophia knew (somehow) that serious complications with a broken rib included a collapsed lung or bleeding in the chest. She scooted towards him, now, and asked, “How is your breathing?”

The man tensed defensively. “It’s fine.”

Sophia came up next to him, and reached a hand out to his chest to see if she could feel any obvious abrasions. He backed away defensively. Sophia frowned at the man, and then stared at his lyrium markings around his face, suddenly more visible, feeling strange… The markings felt strangely powerful, and she wanted to touch them. She needed…

“Sophia. Back up.” Ash’s voice was firm.

Sophia blinked, like she had just woken up. “What-”

Ash frowned. “We don’t fully understand your markings, Soph. But touching him could kill him. Or you could corrupt the lyrium. Don’t touch him.”

Sophia bit her bottom lip nervously, and scooted back. She put her hands up in front of both elves as a sign of surrender and apology. “We need to make sure that the broken ribs haven’t caused any fluid to build up in his lungs, or blood to pool in his chest. If his lung collapses, it could become too difficult for him to breathe. And make it more likely for him to contract pneumonia.”

Fenris’ eyes narrowed. “Pneumonia?”

“An infection of the lungs. Which leads to more liquid and mucus to fill your chest and causes you to, effectively, drown.”

They all looked at her with expressions ranging from disgruntled and suspicious to horrified.

“I will check,” Ash volunteered.

Fenris looked like he was about to argue, so Sophia interceded. “We could ask you some questions first? To see if further investigation is needed.”

The man nodded warily.

“How is your breathing? Are you able to take deep breaths? Is there pain radiating anywhere in your chest outside of the broken ribs?”

Fenris tried to take a deep breath, but ended up coughing and wheezing. Not a good sign. “It hurts,” he offered.

Sophia frowned and turned to Ash. “See if you can hear his breathing.”

Ash put her ear right up into Fenris’ face, which made the man frown. She then shoved her ear against his armored chest, pulling at the armor slightly. “It is hard to hear, but I think his cough is wet.”

So, assume worst case scenario, because she didn’t have the medical expertise to know the difference. How would they get a hold of medical supplies? She thought about what their captors wanted with their bodies. Dorian said the corpses were mummified, and then used as a host body. She imagined that process would be difficult to conduct if the corpse was gravely ill, and the organs infected.

That gave her an idea.

Sophia scooted to the back of the cage and called out to a pair of mages following on horses right behind the cart. “Hey you! Come here!”

They sneered, but didn’t bother to come any closer. Sophia could feel the elves behind her tense.

Sophia pointed to Fenris. “That man is bleeding out. His lungs are infected. He won’t last much longer, and the infection will spread. That would hardly suit your purposes, would it?”

The sneer of one of the mage’s deepened. “And what do you claim to know about our purposes?”

Sophia winked at the man, the endorphins pushing a false sense of bravado. “I can only guess.”

The mages looked at each other silently for a minute, before one of them nodded and galloped to the front of the group. He returned with a small group, one man in particular at the front leading the way wearing elaborated armored robes. He addressed the mage. “What is it?”

The mage looked towards her pointedly. Sophia interceded. “That man has broken ribs and a collapsed lung. It is infected. He will die soon and the infection will spread.”

The man narrowed his eyes at her. “Why should that be a matter of concern to us?”

“You have gone through some effort to capture us. Alive. I assume we have some purpose to serve for you still.”

The man pursed his lips, contemplating. “Perhaps. What do you suggest we do about it?”

Here it goes. “You could bring me my pack. It contains medical supplies that I could use to address the problem.”

The man stared for several moments in consideration, then turned to one of his men. “Retrieve her pack. Go through it and ensure it is devoid of anything but medical supplies.”

They eventually gave her the pack through the bars of the pin, noticeably lighter, but Sophia just gave the men a nod of acknowledgment. The Pentaghast waited as she dug through her pack and got out supplies. An elfroot-prophet’s laurel infusion and long, thick cloth bandages went to Ash, and Sophia scooted closer to Claus while retrieving a balm for burns and bandages. She looked in the bag for her alcohol, and noticed it missing.

Irritated, Sophia called out to the mage that went through her things. “Where is the alcohol? I need it to disinfect the wounds and stop the infection.”

The man’s brows raised in disbelief. “You expect me to believe that?”

Another mage approached the man with a sneer and whispered in his ear. They had a small disagreement, before the bottle of alcohol was produced and given to her through the bars.

“Thank you.”

Sophia could hear Ash unbuckling and unstrapping Fenris’ armor. Sophia herself uncorked the top of the alcohol bottle and poured some down Claus’ calves and feet.

He screamed. Sophia ground her teeth and patted the area dry, trying to block out the screams. Next, the balm, which she smeared as tenderly as she could. And then bandages around his feet and calves, awkwardly wrapped because of the shackle, but bound tightly (although not tight enough to constrict the blood flow). Sophia then gave the elf the alcohol bottle with a smirk.

There was an audible protest from some of the men outside of the cage, but they were ignored as Claus took a healthy swig and gave her back the bottle. Sophia held it out to Ash, who gave her back the elfroot infusion. Sophia heard Fenris hiss through his teeth in pain as the alcohol was spilled over his torso, and gave Claus the remainder of the health potion. Claus finished the bottle and gave a sigh of relief.

Sophia turned just in time to see Fenris’ torso gleam, from the alcohol, blood, and lyrium, and then twisted to look at the men outside the cage. She gave them a raised brow. Several were watching very intently, including the Pentaghast.

Alright. Time to move forward with her plan.

“Like what you see?” Sophia stated, trying to make the statement sound as provocative as possible.

Several of the men’s face crumpled in disgust. Others just stared at her. Sophia gave them a nasty smile. “Can’t help but be curious. To stare that intently? You would either need to be sexually attracted to the man, or a sadist.”

“And if I like pain?” one of the mages gave her a nasty smile in return. No one in the group around their cage moved.

Alright. Plan B.

Sophia winked. “Then you would be my kind of man. Are any of you healers? I would like to ask someone questions about his condition.”

The Pentaghast looked at her curiously, and gestured for someone to come forward. The man that eventually approached them was dark-skinned and lanky, his robes voluminous against his small frame. He approached with his hands clasped nervously in front of him.

Sophia smiled at the man. “Hi. I just wanted to establish that the potion we used would be enough to address his internal issues. I’m afraid I am not extremely well-versed in medicine- just enough to know first-aid basics- so I can’t be sure.”

The man looked solemn, still clutching his hands. “What kind of potion?”

“I believe it was an elfroot base, but was infused with prophet’s laurel. Would that be effective enough?”

“What is the extent of his injury?”

“Broken ribs, bruised muscles, fever. We think one of his lungs collapsed, pierced by the rib, and is filling with liquid- he can’t take a deep breath, and his coughs are wet.”

The man’s brows furrowed in consideration. “Do you have any other draughts?”

“A potion infused with dawn lotus?”

“Hm. I think you should supplement with that potion. To be safe. The injury sounds serious.”

“Thank you. And I wanted to ask you one other matter of some importance…” Sophia leaned closer to the man through the bars, and gestured for him to come closer. The man didn’t move for several moments, his expression bemused, but gradually leaned forward cautiously. Sophia whispered.

“We passed through a Dalish clan on our way to the refugee camp that was suffering from the plague. Half of the clan was dead, the other half grievously ill. We left as soon as we realized, of course, but… how would we know if we caught it? How soon would it take for symptoms to manifest? I am feeling a bit feverish, you see, but that could just be a mild infection from my wounds.”

That was no lie, actually. She was feeling warm, the liquid running down her back a sign that the scabs from the wound on her back had broken, and pain radiated from the area in a way that made her suspect infection of some kind.

The blood drained from the man’s face and he noticeably paled. “P-plague?”

“They were fevered, weak, some coughing up blood. Neck swollen. Am I wrong?”

“N-no. T-that sounds right.”

“So, how many days?”

“B-between today and t-tomorrow?”

Sophia smiled. “Alright. Thank you. I will keep an eye out and let you know if something happens. I would hate to infect you all.”

The man nodded, and then practically flew to the side of the Pentaghast. The leader looked disturbed to hear the man’s stuttered news, and then conflicted. He shot Sophia a searching look, which she met solemnly before turning back to rifle through her bag. She got out the other potion and got Ash’s attention, who had just finished wrapping Fenris’ torso. She crawled closer to the elf and gave the elf the potion. “Did you hear?”

Ash was very quiet. “Plague?”

Sophia looked back into her bag and made a show of going through it. “Would they leave us?”

Ash snorted. “I should think so. But how?”

Sophia found a lyrium potion, and tilted the opening of the bag so it was slightly visible. “Rashvine nettle.”

Ash’s eyes widened in understand. “Soph, that could be dangerous.”

Sophia snorted. “More dangerous than being catered off towards Nevarra City to be killed and mummified?” She looked up when she heard a horse trotting up to the cage, and saw the Pentaghast approach.

“You are feeling ill?” He looked nervous.

Sophia scooted right up to him from her side of the bars. She gestured to her forehead. “Would you like to feel?”

The man’s hands clenched and his face distorted as he attempted to decide what to do. He eventually took off one of his gloves, looking wary and suspicious, and reached forward to feel her forehead. Once he registered the obvious fever, he brought his hand back to his chest quickly in panic. He took a deep breath, as if grounding himself. “No other symptoms?”

Sophia shook her head. “Not at the moment. Though I promised your healer that I would inform him if that changes.”

The Pentaghast nodded. “Please do.” He still looked uneasy as he gestured to the men and galloped to the front of the group.

“Sophia?” Kathari sound worried.

Sophia gave the woman what she hoped was a reassuring smile, and turned to Fenris. “How are you feeling? Is your breathing any better?”

Fenris was staring at her through narrowed eyes. “It is. What are you plotting?”

Sophia smirked at him. “Escape, of course. Although it would look more realistic if it wasn’t just me. Ash?” She turned to the only other member of their party that wasn’t injured or pregnant.

Ash understood immediately. “Regeneration Potion?”

Sophia nodded. And then explained her plan to the elves in whispers. “In a course of treatment in Tevinter we discovered that I am severely allergic to Rashvine nettle. And the symptoms I experienced include a swollen neck, fever, vomiting, stomach pain, shortness of breath, and coughing. It should be close enough to pass for the plague.”

Ash’s lips were pursed. “If you don’t die.”

Sophia smiled sardonically. “There is that. Regeneration potion makes Ash sick to her stomach and shake from muscle convulsions. It won’t be pretty, but I am hoping it will be enough to convince them.”

Fenris nodded. “What should we do?”

“Try to look as sick as possible? We need to sell severity and infectivity in order to get the group to abandon us.”

Kathari spoke up. “I’m surprised they haven’t already. Plague suspicions are usually treated with a great deal of caution and superstition.”

Ash shook her head. “These two are worth a lot to the dying king. Pentaghast wouldn’t dare abandon them on suspicion alone. I imagine failure to retrieve them would have some not-so-pretty consequences.” She turned to Sophia. “Using a lyrium potion might not be the best source of the herb to use, considering your markings. Do you have any Mighty Offense Tonic?”

She did.

As a group, they decided to wait until they could see a source of water, knowing they would need the liquid in order to survive. Sophia knew from reading about the geography of Thedas that a river ran from the the south of Hasmal towards the capital of the country, and figured that they were probably heading towards it for ease of transport.

Sophia was right. As soon as the group received word of the approaching river (which Sophia was happy to see was lined with lush vegetation), they acted. In order to be as inconspicuous as possible, Sophia dripped the tonic on her fingers and absentmindedly put her fingers in her mouth, making a show of picking her teeth.

Fenris gave her a look. “That is disgusting.”

Sophia shrugged, attempting to ingest a safe amount of the potion. She noticed Ash copying her attempts.

Fenris rolled his eyes, before grabbing the bottle of alcohol and giving it a healthy swig.

It did not take long for the affects to become obvious. One moment Sophia was feeling fevered and pained, leaning against the bars of the cage, and the next she was on the floor of the cart, hyperventilating, trying to breathe through the nausea. She could feel her throat tighten, the skin on her forearms becoming itchy, and started to cough. It did not take long for vomit to follow, which she had just enough awareness to aim outside of the cart.

She caught sight of Ash out of the corner of her eye. The elf shook, her face red and eyes glossy. She vomited shortly after Sophia.

Which caused Kathari to be sick to her stomach. The pregnant elf leaned over Claus and threw up what little food they had been given. The two men watched this all with fascinated disgust until Sophia made a noise through her delirium and gestured to the floor of the cart. Both men fell, and Sophia could see Fenris shaking, struggling to breathe.

She hoped that was act.

That was the last coherent thought she registered. After that, the world became a vision of swirling colors, nausea, and pain. Voices broke through the haze in her delirium.

 

_“Come on out of your room Sophia, there is more to life than fencing and video games. Your father wants to go fishing.”_

_“Again? He never catches anything.”_

_“No reason not to go. We won’t be around forever, you know.”_

_“I heard you were fighting again at school.”_

_“They were beating up Henry again. What was I supposed to do?”_

_“Not pick fights with a group of older boys twice your size? Your mother is worried, you know. And the doctor said you will have that scar above your eye for the rest of your life.”_

_“I don’t care about scars, Dad. It’s not right. Why is Jeff such an asshole?”_

_“It’s not that simple, Soph. I’m sure he has problems of his own.”_

_“You didn’t see what he did. He doesn’t deserve your consideration.”_

_“And you are fit to make that judgment? You know he lost his mother a few months ago? And his dad is still overseas.”_

_“So? He should know better.”_

_“Where’s your compassion, Sophie-bee? You don’t know what else he has to deal with. If he asked for help would you help him?”_

_A pause. “Soph?”_

_“Maybe.”_

_“Don’t be so quick to judge. You learn in life that everyone has problems, and everyone’s suffering in some way. Some just aren’t as good at dealing with their pain.”_

_“I heard your date didn’t work out. Again.”_

_“It’s not my fault, Amanda. You should have seen the guy. It wasn’t a date, it was an interrogation. I could practically see him mentally checking off questions from one of those cheesy online checklists.”_

_“Some men know what they are looking for.”_

_“And don’t know how to look for it. Is there something wrong with me for wanting some natural chemistry? If felt so forced.”_

_“What, are you expecting instant attraction and reciprocation? And with your weird tastes?”_

_“My taste in men is not_ that _weird. I just want to find someone that shares my interests.”_

_Snort. "If that was really the case, you would still be with James. Admit it, you are a bit shallow.”_

_A pause. “What is wrong with wanting to be attracted to your person? Or are you implying that I can’t afford to be shallow?”_

_“Of course not, Soph. You know I think you are gorgeous. I just want you to admit to the impossibility of your ideal man.”_

_“My interests are not that unconventional, Amanda.”_

_“Pft. Yeah right. I mean, the fencing is alright. Even your interest in video games, although you can get a bit obsessive. But your tendency to read textbooks when you eat breakfast? To pick fights and get into intense political debates with complete strangers? Your habit of drawing diagrams of your favorite military strategies when you’re bored? Wait… that’s what you were doing last night on your date, wasn’t it? Drawing on your napkins again.”_

_“It’s not my fault he was boring.”_

_“Jesus, Sophia. Yeah, I would stop blind dates if I were you.”_

_“So, who’s your favorite companion in Inquisition?”_

_“Have you finished playing it already?”_

_“Oh, hush. I didn’t have anything else to do this weekend. Well?”_

_“Cole? I think. It sounds like poetry every time he opens his mouth, and his floppy hat is so endearing…”_

_“And he’s blonde…”_

_“Please. I can guess which blonde you have your eyes on.”_

_“Mhm. Can you blame me? I don’t know what the hell happened between Dragon Age II and Inquisition, but fuck, Cullen got sexy.”_

_“If you say so.”_

_“I do. You should have seen the cut scene after they did it. The man is cut. You romanced Solas, right? How was that?”_

_“Heartbreaking.”_

_“Really? He was kind of hard for me to like. Weird and arrogant. But I get it. You and your elves.”_

_“What is that supposed to mean?”_

_“You just have a tendency to play elves. And romance elves. Nothing wrong with it…”_

_“I like them.”_

_“I said there was nothing wrong with it-”_

_“You were implying it.”_

_“It’s cute. Didn’t he turn out to be an ancient elven god? Fen’harel or something? That’s hot.”_

_Snort. “Of course you would say that.”_

_“Got to love those antiheros. Have you heard about Asunder?”_

_“A little bit?”_

_“Your opinion of Cole might change if you read it. Look into my eyes, so I can feel real as I cut your throat! Hahaha.”_

_“He’s a sweetie.”_

_“Are you pouting? God. So weird.”_

_“But we’re still friends.”_

_“What can I say? You spice up life.”_

_“Good job Sophia, now parry…”_

_“Are you sure you don’t want to have dinner? Just a quick bite around the corner?”_

_“Nala! Come here, sweet girl!”_

_“No! Solas, how could you? Don’t be afraid to love! Your plans don’t make any sense!”_

_“Send a few men in and take her to the chamber. Chain her to the table.”_

_“Girl! I had to sacrifice fifteen people to bring you this side of the Fade. You will come down and allow me the benefit of my investment.”_

_“Give her more elfroot infusion! Now! No, you fucking imbecile, the green bottle!”_

Sophia’s world became black.

 

*

 

Sophia came to with a start, breathing heavily. The first thing she became aware of was the realization that she was no longer moving. The next was the rancid smell of stomach acid that seemed to permeate the air around her head.

Wrinkling her nose, Sophia opened her eyes and registered that it was both nighttime and unnaturally quiet. Raising her head, she could see that all of her companions were prostrate on the floor. Sophia kneeled through vomit in order to reach Ash’s side and attempt to find a pulse.

It was there.

She hoped they were all sleeping.

She didn't want to think about her memories. Or try to piece together the meaning and the implications of why _this_ , and why _now_. Later. She would think about it later.

Looking out of the cage, she couldn’t see anyone. One side of the cage was against a hill, a wall of dirt blocking all visibility. The other side led into some woods, and was devoid of people.

They needed to move. The thought popped into her head suddenly, urgently, and she struggled to remember what to do next.

Sophia tried to move her bangs out of her face and realized that her hands were bound.

That’s right. They needed to escape from the shackles. She shook Ash, and was relieved to hear the woman wake. “Mmm?”

“Ash! We need to leave. Just in case they come back, or someone else comes to get us.” Sophia’s voice slurred, and she considered the fact that she might not be at her best. She hoped the others were well enough to make up for it.

Ash opened her eyes, which were red and bleary. “M’kay.”

“Can you open the locks?”

The elf nodded unsteadily, and reached for Sophia’s head of hair. She pulled out a pin clumsily, ignoring Sophia’s yelp of pain, and began to fiddle with the lock. The occasional tremor jostled her hand out of place, and the elf cursed as she reattempted to pick the lock.

It was a few minutes before the lock clicked open and the shackles fell to the floor, and all Sophia could think of during that time was that her breathing seemed loud. Like, unusually loud. The sound of the metal against the floor woke the other occupants of the cart, who shoot up in sudden awareness. Sophia looked at them as she held her bound wrists out to Ash. “Good morning, ducks. We need to leave.”

It took a moment for everyone to gather their bearings. In that time, Ash unlocked her shackles (noticeably quicker than her first attempt), and moved onto Fenris. The male elf gave their ill faces and the disgusting wood floor a dispassionate look. "This was a careless plan. We are lucky it worked out the way it did."

Sophia ignored him.

Fenris spoke up again while Ash was kneeling between his feet, picking the lock around his ankles, “And I can’t help but notice that we are without food, water, and weapons, and lost in a foreign territory.”

Sophia moved to grab her bag, making sure everything was still inside. “There should be water nearby. And we know that Hasmal is about a day away on foot. We can resupply there.”

Ash spoke up from in front of Kathari, releasing the shackles from around the woman’s feet. “Are we sure it is the best idea to return to the place where we were kidnapped? What if they come back, notice we are missing, and attempt to retrieve us?”

Sophia noticed pieces of vomit in her hair, and cringed. Perhaps they could find a place to wash up? “Do you have another idea? It is the nearest city. The next closest would be Tantervale, which is on the other side of the river and at least a week away.”

Fenris spoke up. “I need to get back to the refugees.”

“We can do that. Although I doubt they have returned to the city so soon after the attack. Do you know where they could have retreated to?”

Fenris nodded. “There is a small settlement close to the river to the south of Hasmal. They are probably there.”

Claus cried out in pain, and Sophia turned to see the elf grinding his teeth as Ash removed the shackles from around his ankles. Kathari spoke up from his side, sounding concerned. “I don’t think he can walk.”

She walked up to Claus thoughtfully. And then gave her bag of medicines to Ash. “Can any of these be administered topically and used to help repair the damage on his feet?”

Ash made quick work of her search, tilting the edge of the bag so that she could see in the contents in the moonlight. “Here.”

After they applied the poultice and Sophia had re-wrapped both legs and feet, Claus was able to at least stand and walk slowly. 

Sophia grimaced as she considered their next course of action. “Water first. So we can wash up and replenish our fluids.”

Ash nodded. “The river will be South. Where is South?”

Kathari spoke up. “Eluvia should be in the South this time of year," the elf paused and looked around the sky intently. "I will need to see the sky from on top of the hill."

Ash nodded again and moved to pick the lock on the metal cage containing them.

"Where did you learn to pick locks?" Fenris sounded curious.

"I was trained."

"Really? From what I can remember, Danarius is hardly the type of man to support educating slaves. Especially in something like lock-picking."

"There was an incident a few years ago. The cage of one of his experiments was unlocked by a guard, who turned out to be the woman's brother. After that, Danarius decided to throw away all of the keys except his in order to prevent a repeat incident. And ensured I was trained to pick them open and close so that I could tend to them."

"You _tend_ to his experiments? So you aid him in his experimentation?"

The lock to the cage clicked and Ash spun around, her chin jutted out defiantly. "I attempt to aid the poor souls who are suffering." 

Sophia came around next to Claus and wrapped his arm around her neck so that he could comfortably lean on her for support and balance. They made their way to the edge of the cart.

Ash looked at the group, avoiding Fenris' gaze. “Let’s go to the top of the hill.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to everyone who has been reading! I hope you are enjoying the story so far. Please let me know if you notice any discrepancies, or if you have any other concerns.


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